Tuesday, October 27, 2015

i only cry on tuesdays

On Tuesdays, I go to "Moms' Group" (yet another thing I once mocked but now thoroughly enjoy).

It's quite an amazing group of ladies from our area who meet in order to learn how to better train up our children and serve our husbands. I have already learned a lifetime of information, and I haven't even been going for a full year.

Furthermore, the community that has been built with this like-minded group as our foundation is amazing. They have been meeting for years, and I have been welcomes as their own with such warmth that I truly feel like I've been with them all along. We learn together, laugh together, and cry together. We share deeply personal (and not-so-personal) struggles, and we often storm heaven with prayers for the sake of others. These ladies are amazing, and they are truly bearing one another's burdens.

Which is why I cry every Tuesday.

You see, I go about my days busily, hopping from one activity to the next. Laundry, folding clothes, dishes, cooking (eh...or not cooking), nursing a baby, working on letters with the boys, officiating scuffles, tying shoelaces, sweeping up crumbs, wiping pee from several places that are not the toilet bowl, picking up clothes, running errands, attempting to exercise, etc.

You get the idea. The list goes on and on, and I'm never truly finished.

I do it and don't really mind doing all of it because it keeps me busy. But in the back of my head there is this one thing: Clementine. She is always on my mind, but I have to place her back there because if I were to actively think of her every second, I surely wouldn't get anything done for all the crying.

But on Tuesdays, these amazing women ask how they can pray for me. Most know about Clementine and automatically ask about her. I don't mind them asking. She's my daughter, (Clementine Kaleo LOTZ, for crying out loud) and I love to talk about her. But when they ask, I have to move her from the back to the front of my mind, and that's extremely painful.

So then I start talking. I can usually get her name out: "Clementine. Please pray for Clementine." But it all goes downhill from there. The chin quiver comes and my eyes fill up and my nose automatically become a leaky dripping faucet. (Why can't I be a beautiful crier like Teri Roy??)

Suddenly, I'm undone.

These ladies are gracious enough to allow me to stumble through simultaneous sniffs and explanations of the latest news. (Usually, we have come off of a conference call or email from our Department of State saying that DRC said kids will be home "soon," which has been said since April and might just be why I am a crazy person right now.)

I usually put her in the back of my mind for six days of the week in order to be strong, be present with my kids who are here, and to get things done. But on Tuesdays, the tears always come.

I am so grateful that I am allowed to do that with these ladies and that they understand that I'm not a crazy person who cries constantly. I hate being vulnerable, and the crying is not only painful because of our long wait for Clementine but also because it is a kick to my pride.

I want people to think I have it all together, for goodness' sake.

But I don't, and I am so thankful that they care deeply and want to be able to pray for us well.

This wait for Clementine is the longest and hardest road I've ever been on, but I'm grateful I'm not crying alone.

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