About two weeks ago, I had a total meltdown about Mr. Squire's exit from teaching. It involved anguished prayers, a sleepless night, and a crying hangover the next day.
Gradually since then, the pain and hurt has subsided considerably. I find myself just...not thinking about it so much. Not stressing about it, and maybe kind of even beginning to accept it. It's weird.
At first I thought I was just tired of thinking about it, so my brain and heart automatically disengaged. But that's not really like me.
Then I thought it was because I can see, day after day, how hard it is for Mr. Squire to go to school. He is totally dragging, and it is so sad to see. It seems there's no joy, only strained grasping and crawling slowly and painfully toward the finish line. Then, at the end of the day, he is a total zombie. I speak, and he barely hears. Even when he hears, he often lacks the emotional or mental capacity to understand. I can't imagine another year of this either, so I can see this being part of the explanation.
But looking back on the last couple weeks, I think I know what really happened here. Following the meltdown, several sisters emailed to check in on me, and I had a long talk with my big brother and sister. I received an encouraging card from them, too, and from my mom. I was surrounded by prayers from people who were fighting the fury on our behalf, approaching God and asking for peace for us. And...it seems...God has given it, at least for now. (I'm kind of holding my breath.)
Usually I'm on the giving side of prayer, just because I enjoy it so much, find tremendous strength in it, and have the gift of remaining faithful and steady in praying for others. I love to pray. This time, though, I'm definitely on the receiving end of prayer, and wow...this is what it can feel like?? Pretty amazing. I've been able to be still, be quiet, and rest. To resume a position of trust and expectation in what God has in store next. It's still not easy, but it's a lot easier these days.
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