We Can't Rush Through It

 Last week I shared a picture of an Oh Henry chocolate bar on Instagram and Facebook. Someone just scrolling past may have wondered why I put a picture of a chocolate bar there.

In the words with the picture I shared the reason why. I hadn't eaten an Oh Henry bar in years, but I was looking for some chocolate and had picked one up. As I sat in my car waiting for my niece to be done so I could take her home, I ate it. The simple act of eating a chocolate bar brought back a flood of memories.

When I would golf with my Grandma, we would stop at the snack shop after the first nine holes to replenish our snacks and drinks for the second nine. Grandma always wanted the snacks to be something that provide the fuel needed. Oh Henry bars were full of peanut so it was almost always an easy sell to get one. In the heat of summer, we ate it quickly after we bought it.

So, on that day last week, as I ate an Oh Henry bar that would have melted if I didn't eat it quickly, memories of the many hours of time I spent on the golf course with my Grandma came flooding back. Those hours were times of security and peace in the midst of a world that felt anything but that.

It's been almost two years since my Grandma passed away, and many more since she was able to be the person I talked to about stuff, but in that moment last week I missed her a lot.

I missed her presence.

I missed her hugs.

I missed her smile.

I missed her laugh.

I missed the way she listened so intently when you talked to her.

I missed the wisdom she freely shared.

I missed being able to phone her and get her advice on how to lead something in a Bible study.

I missed her prayers.

The pain and sorrow of the loss is still there. It feels different than it did two years ago, but it's still there. And I'm learning that's okay. I've still lived more of my life with my Grandma in it, than I have without her. There's still a person missing in the place she once filled in my life. And I can acknowledge and feel that loss. In fact, I need to.

The challenge is that we don't like those emotions. When they came up last week, it was tempting to try to push them away. To pretend they weren't there.

We want to rush past or push down sorrow, pain, grief. We want a quick timeline for when they will be done. But, that's a problem. It's a journey that we have to walk through, however long it takes.

So, last week, I acknowledged what I was feeling. I let myself feel the sadness. And I reminded myself that it's a loss because I loved my Grandma. And I remembered how so much of what she taught me through her words and actions still lives on in me today.

It reminds me that I need to be intentional about allowing myself space. And also to allow others space for the journey they're on. We can't rush through these. We can't push them away.

The Limitations of our Labels

 Labels.

We use them everywhere in life. They're on items we purchase. They tell us what we need to know about lots of items in our lives - whether it's the ingredients or the use. 

They're usually helpful. And, often, they're necessary.

We also use labels for people. And they can be somewhat helpful in some situations. But. it's easy to take our labels too far with people.

Labels can help us create groups of similar people that may be interested in particular things. They can help us identify who certain groups or classes or events may be most appropriate for or interesting to.

The problems comes when we start using labels as someone's identity. When we take something that may be one of the many things about a person and make the only thing about the person, we use labels wrongly. We use them in a way that causes pain to people when we do this - whether we do this to other people or to ourselves.

I've dealt with this in a couple of specific situations in my life. The first being with the label of being single. It's absolutely true that I am single. It's a label that is factually true. But, I've been in situations where I'm being introduced to new people and the introduction I get essentially boils down to: "This is Tamara. She's single."

In those five words, the person introducing me us using "single" as my identity. Completely ignoring the fact that I'm also a friend, daughter, sister, auntie, ministry leader, etc. Somehow being single is who I am in these words, and it hurts to have my identity boiled down to a label that only describes a part of my life.

While others often take labels and make our identity, we can also do that to ourselves. I know I have. I've written here before about my struggles with anxiety and what it means to life a diagnosis of Social Anxiety Disorder. In that previous sentence, I chose my words carefully. I struggle with anxiety and I have been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. 

In the past, I have made those labels my identity; I used the words "I am an anxious person" to describe myself. It may not seem like a big deal in the moment, but those words change everything in how I think about myself. I don't want anxiety to be my identity.

So, while labels can be helpful, they have limitations. We need to make sure we're not turning them into identities - whether for others or ourselves.

The One Sunday of the Year I'm Very Tempted to Just Skip Church

 It's not very often that I'm tempted to skip church. But, there is one weekend where it becomes a serious consideration.

What Sunday is that?

Mother's Day.

And not because I have anything against the day. 

Or because I don't have a good relationship with my own mother. We have our disagreements, but, for the most part, we have a good relationship.

So, why is it a weekend I'm tempted to skip church?

Because of how Mother's Day has been handled so often in the past. Always, with really good intentions of celebrating and affirming the mothers in church that morning.

But, also, often hard for many. For those who don't have children of their own, because they've never had the chance. For those who don't have children, because they haven't been able to. For those who have lost a child. For those who didn't or don't have a good relationship with their mothers. For those who recently lost their mother.

In the process of honouring mothers on this day, there have been many times that I have been the only woman in the part of the church sanctuary I was sitting in who was still seated when they asked all the mothers in the service to stand. Or the times, a hand offering the gift that morning to the mothers there has been pulled back from me when they realize who I am.

All of those moments, painful reminders that my life doesn't look like I thought it would. That I don't have a part of my life that I thought I would by now.

And, so I'm tempted to skip church on Mother's Day. Not just choose to join online instead, but completely skip it.

So, what do we do?

I won't say we shouldn't acknowledge the mothers at church. But, we need to be creative in doing so in a way that doesn't so obviously identify who does not have children.