Jilly Brandon

The purging, and vacuuming, and cleaning up of a space was an overly optimistic endevour for me.  I kept creeping past the room where she once resided, but it felt like I was paralyzed to go in, and begin the process of emptying out, and giving away of “her” things.

Where do I begin?  What do I keep?  Everything means something special to me….and the memories cascade down upon me like a lusty waterfall in a desert …..

I’m thirsty for a glimpse of her.  I long for her giggle, and her sparkling blue eyes blazing with mischief….

I’m hearing….”Go forward..just move Jill..”  “Be brave…dive in..”  I don’t feel brave.  I want to flee from this scene.  I want to reset the clock…I have no idea where I am in my own home.

It feels like my space is a foreign land, and I’m a weary traveler, who does not speak the language, is unsure about what to give away, what to keep, and making simple choices appears to be a thing of the past.

“Just do the next thing….”  “act first the feelings will follow.”  This I have found to be true.  It can seem like a mountain to climb, but it cannot be conquered by simply looking at it, action and walking into the next scenic view is required.

Hope is required…and faith…and prayer, lots n lots of prayer.

If you have never felt the storm coming, and then found yourself strangely and almost unexpectedly calm in it…well, the euphoria of just being “held” is like nothing I have ever known.

Giving away Bianca’s things to others does help my heart.  Knowing that little girls are wearing her Jammie’s, watching her movies, and hugging her stuffed animals, makes me smile, and walking in her shoes…I love this concept.

The other day, I heard this adorable giggle coming from the other room.  I was curious, and then I saw the beagle, Matilda, had found a little stuffed toy of B’s that giggled when you pushed on it’s tummy.  The beagle looked a tag confused, and quite perplexed at the noise, which was humorous, but it felt like she had chosen her toy too, to remember her girl master.

Its the little things…don’t miss the little gifts.

I opened up her windows, as I was vacuuming, and let her drapes blow.  There was a cool Spring breeze, which blew the curtains in a cleansing way.  The Winter cold , and stagnant air of disease was being vacated from her room.

I felt as if I heard her saying…”I’m not here Mummy..I’m flying like the butterflies on my curtains..I’m free..I’m happy..”

It felt lighter in there.  I had dreaded having to clean up her room, to leave it, and move away felt like an ominous ordeal, but this day, I knew, it was going to be ok.  This strength working through me, was not of me, but was of Jesus being there in the moment with me.  It was incredible.  He meets me where I am…I love that.

 

It is such a comfort to know that your precious child is more alive, and full of grace than they ever were on this planet.  She is experiencing the fullness of life in a body that can do more than I can even fathom.  The realization that I will meet her one day again, and be with those that I have loved, and who have gone on into the heavenly realms , fills me with a joy I can hardly comprehend.

There will be no more empty rooms…

There are so many little presents along the way if I watch for them.  As I walked this morning, I looked way up, and there were a multiple of hot air balloons dotting the horizon.  What is it about seeing those huge soaring bubbles dotting the sunrisen sky that breathes hope.. ?

I know the” Wizard of Oz,” always hyjacks my thoughts, and the weird little wizard who was all smoke n mirrors, and a bit of a sham, somehow reminds me that we all try and act tough and bigger than we are at times…false expectations and fear can run rampant through ourselves, until we find that we are acting in ways we had never dreamed possible.

I remember being a little terrified as a young girl with some of the scenes from this movie, like the nasty witch and the winged monkeys for starters…nightmares…like lots of them.

I loved the”Follow the yellow brick road tune,” and the beloved characters were so dear to me.  Especially “Courage the Cowardly lion.”  I think he is my favorite.  I can certainly identify with him.  Who doesn’t want to know that they will be able to summon up courage at a moments’ notice?  He does come to realize that he had courage, he just had to find it in himself, and later he ends up ruling over all of the beasts in the kingdom.

Also, the Tin man who needed a heart, and was so rusty and unable to move because  he had no heart.  He needed someone to care enough, to love him, see him as worthwhile, and pour life giving oil into his barren and decrepid body.  He thought he couldn’t get in touch with his emotions, but as it turns out he is very sensitive, and caring, he just could not see it in himself.

The misunderstood scarecrow was such a cute character to me.. He was goofy, and a bit of a nervous guy,  but loveable as well.  He just thought that Dorothy hung the moon, but he lacked faith in himself, and in his abilities.  He didn’t really think that he had purpose or brains.  He doesn’t see himself as already possessing the intelligence that he craves.

Our current belief in ourselves is the determiner about how we see ourselves.  Often it takes the pointing out of others that see characteristics that we don’t see in ourselves, to make us realize we don’t see our own truth..our unlimited potential.

A community of friends is so crucial in our ability to grow.  We need others who will push us when we need pushing, pick us up when we fall, and hold us when we hurt.

Moving, change, stepping out into the next part of your life, even though you aren’t even really sure what that looks like, is exciting and absolutely petrifying.

Most of us like known.  We can count on that, even if it doesn’t complete us, or make us happy.  We would be far more willing to accept an “known” versus face an “unknown.”  Wait…I’m just speaking for myself.

When I hear of people who just sell everything and travel off to destinations unknown, that they had never traversed, I’m impressed.  Missionaries who take their families, and feel the calling on their lives to leave everything and go, just go .   I love that kind of faith, that resilience.  It’s very inspiring to me.

In truth, we are creatures of habit.  I wake up, let the dogs out, take care if necessary bodily functions, make a pot of coffee, then try to remember what my days’ plans were to be…ha..51, and not holding..

Its so strange to look at a closet once bursting with fun, and lively colored clothes, now appear barren even, and anemic.

I don’t like it.  I want to run from this.  I don’t want to face this.  This is hard, this hurts.  This is grief.  It has become part of the intrinsic part of my inmost being.  I’m not sad all the time, but I do get lost in my memories, in the missing.

My older beagle, “Mario,” yes, he is still hanging in there, follows me from room to room as I clean and sort, with such a look of deep longing in his dark brown eyes.  He wants to be there for his human, so loyal, so loving, such a “good man,” as I’ve told him for 11 years now.

Time..we are bound by it, in our own little world..and so..hopefully we make the best use of it, some days better than others…but still we move forward into the boundless unknown…