Heart Pain

This past week I've been "working out" (I'm using that term rather loosely) every day at the gym down the road using time I usually spend blogging and reading.  Boo to the latter.

I have noticed, however, some benefits to daily exercise.  I can keep up with my son Theo at the park without getting out of breath, sleep deeply at night, and not feel guilty about eating that extra whole wheat chocolate chip cookie.  My "fat"pants aren't so darn tight.  

Treading on that @$%* elliptical for 30 minutes every day has definitely put me more in touch with my physical body.  In the past week I've experienced cramps, shooting pains, numb toes (apparently my tennis shoes are too small) and sore muscles.  I've sweat enough liquid to fill a small swimming pool, and every afternoon on that darn machine my face and body turn bright, beet red.  (This attractive coloring lasts for several hours past the workout.)  I've known since middle school that my face turns red after running and that sore muscles are a result of working hard, but I have experienced something else I never, ever expected.

Grievers often find that their inner pain exhibits itself through their physical body - studies show that people in a prolonged stage of high-stress grief are at increased risk for heart attacks, heart disease, ulcers, and kidney stones (among other things).  One of the best and most difficult pieces of advice my spiritual director gave me was to "make friends" with my inner pain, and during my daily workouts this week I made the initial steps toward doing this.  How, you may ask?

Well, I have finally found my pain's physical location.  It's in my heart.  My heart hurts so much.  It feels constricted, broken, aching, throbbing, heavy, so, so, heavy it can be difficult to breathe.  In the last eight months since Vincent died, my whole body has felt heavy all day long, sluggish, unresponsive, numb, unhappy.  But now, now all this inner pain is all centering itself in my heart where it throbs at odd moments every day, triggered by memories, songs, pictures, words, images. 

Now that I have discovered the location of my pain, all that remains is for me to simply "make friends" with it.

...I'll let you know how that goes.  

Walk On

This week I joined 24 Hour Fitness, located just down the road from our house.  It's been several months since this post, and I'm glad I finally got up the nerve to do something about it.  Plus my 30th birthday is rapidly approaching, adding to my motivation.  

Each day this week I broke out of my normal pattern of study/reading while Theo's at preschool and have instead been working out, slowly burning calories that largely accumulated while sitting in bed holding Vincent.  Considering my last intentional exercise was well over six years ago, I'm not as sore as I anticipated.

But the thing is.... I don't really feel any better inside.  I'm still tired, exhausted, angry, sad.  Perhaps there is no golden ticket—no one specific thing that will make my life more bearable.  I guess I should know after eight months of grief work that the only way to feel (minutely) better is to keep walking, moving forward (wherever and whatever that is).

       Lord, strengthen me.
       Let my hands be adept to serve,
       feet quick to follow,
       eyes sharp to see.
       My heart, steadfast, be Yours.

Rainbows and Prayers

"Lord, I want to know your ways more and more... This is my cry; give me an endless love and thirst for you... That is my cry to you forever, Amen.       Yours only, Rebecca Holmes"                  

-Diary excerpt dated March 18, 1993  (I was 11 years old)

Last week during his nightly prayers Theo asked God to send him a rainbow, preferably soon.

I thought to myself, "Good thing we live in Hawaii!" and promptly informed him that he would be seeing a rainbow sometime during the weekend.  I was sure of it.

On Saturday while driving to Costco, we saw it, slightly foggy and indistinct, but as we rode along the colors became increasingly bright, almost sharp, and ten minutes later it was a full-fledged rainbow stretching across the sky complete with a double.  Yup, there were two of them. 

Theo was ecstatic.  I was happy his prayer was answered.  Theo thanked God and Vincent for sending him the rainbow(s) and then informed us that when he goes to heaven he's going to make it rain for a long while.  Great.  Double great.  

These days Theo seems to be talking a lot about when he gets sick and dies and goes to heaven like his brother.  I've had "rational" conversations with him where I informed him of the low probability of death for a child his age.  We talked about statistics, how most kids in our country don't get cancer.  At other times I've tried different approaches - we've discussed how it is to miss someone you love, how it hurts to wait to see them, but today when he brought up the topic of his death yet AGAIN, I felt like having a fit.  I don't like having conversations with our 4 year old son about his OWN death.  I don't EVER want to think about it, EVER!  I hope I'm long gone before he kicks the can.  So today, when Theo brought up the topic of dying, I felt like having a very angry talk where I would inform him - yes, instruct him - that he was NOT going to die anytime soon, much less get SICK and die, that I was simply NOT going to allow it.  Because I can control things like that, dag nabit! 

Only I can't.  Obviously.  And that stinks.   

Perhaps at the end of my story I'll be able to look back and see how all along my life was an exercise in surrender - the surrender of control, ambition, treasure.  And how with each surrendering, each large and small death, I was brought nearer to the heart of God, the one who lost (and then gained!) it all.

That would be an answer to one of my earliest prayers.  

Saturday Prayer

God,
why, why
exhaustion chases me
my heart heavy full sinks down, lower still,
this is more than I can bear

Why, why have you forsaken me?

Friday Prayer

God,
I'm exhausted—
body, mind, spirit, soul.
In weakness make me strong
that I may stand with you on the high places.
Amen.

Photo by Theo (4 yrs)

Thursday Prayer

Lord, 

Grant me the grace of thinking before speaking,

of offering mercy, not accusation

of forgiving and forgetting.

Let not my past wounds blind me to your presence.

Amen.

Wednesday Prayer

God, I lie so easily.
Must come from years of practice.
Sometimes the truth is more complicated, depressing,
often unbelievable.
As you can see, I'm full of excuses.
Fill my ears with the complicated truth that I may speak it out
even when it is uncomfortable, unglamorous, painful.

Photography by Theo Stringer (age 4)