I haven't posted in a bit because, frankly, the activities surrounding Baby K's departure from her home sent me in to a tailspin. Amazing, isn't it, how happenings that aren't even at the heart of your own life can set off a chain of events that chip at the foundation of your sense of happiness.
After Baby K, there was one more thing. Then another. Then another. The final straw, I think, was when my Mamaw told me that she's ready to "go on" now. No, that's not true. The final straw was when my dad asked me if I'd look up safety ratings for nursing homes that would take my Papaw--who has severe, advanced Alzheimers. Or maybe it was when some arsonist here in town decided to light a home on fire in the middle of the night--a home that contained a young family just sleeping. Sleeping, for pete's sake. They got out o.k., but still ...
It's a tough season for me right now. I'm going to be honest and say that somehow I've managed to convince the world that I'm in my happy place when really I am fighting that swimming upstream feeling. I don't know how else to describe it. It's not depression; I know depression, and this isn't it. I have full-on joy in the many happy moments of my days and weeks. When I am depressed, I can't touch sunshine for all of my trying. No. This isn't depression.
It's loneliness, I think. A kind of loneliness I've never really felt before. I'm surrounded by people--people who I love, people who love me. People who make me happy.
But somehow, these people are all knee-deep in their own stuff right now, and I just feel, well ... a little lost. The thing is, everyone is talking about something, all the time. Their family. Their baby. Their school schedule. Their planning. Their vacation. Their relationship with their mom/dad/uncle/brother/dog. Their thing.
No one is asking about me. Geesh, that sounds selfish. And really, I guess it is.
All these good things wrapping around me, and I feel afloat because I can't get anyone to really talk to me about me. Wow. That's a nasty little confession.
So here I am, Mary Grace in her own little corner of the world, gazing at beautiful baby Seven, giggling with her Nepali daughter via telephone over the insanity of sacred cows who chase schoolkids through the streets, watching summer splash over her preschoolers with all the sunny joy of a hose at full force, watching God slowly build our missions funds, parenting, laughing, living ...
And being lonely. All at the same time.