ONE BRICK At A Time

I love brick houses.

They are classic, strong, beautiful, and stand the test of time.

If time and cost weren't a factor, and I were to build a new home, I would choose bricks for the whole structure, and not just the front entry for looks. No more maintenance to repaint or replace, no rust, no rot, no peeling or warping.

It would take longer to build than a wooden structure, one brick at a time, but the painstaking process would be worth it in the end. It could last my whole lifetime.

Unless disaster strikes. Depending on where I chose to build, it could be a tornado, an earthquake, or a hurricane. I have no control over the weather, or what it destroys in it's path.

It wouldn't matter how nice everything looked before. That brick house is going to be a mess.
Everything left in shambles, it's extremely difficult to pick up the pieces.

It's time to rebuild that pretty little house. Maybe this time we will use rocks, or stucco. It doesn't really matter anymore, because what we thought would last our lifetime, didn't.

I think our lives are like a brick home.
Strong and beautiful, and meant to last a lifetime.

But what happens when life comes crashing down and everything falls apart?

It leaves a shattered mess. Everything left in shambles, it's extremely difficult to pick up the pieces.

If you are like me, you have seen the brick walls come tumbling down.

I had lost my brother the year before, and I was finding more health issues of my own, when my father passed away. We lost our son, Nathanael, shortly after our daughter married.

So many walls came tumbling down on me all at once. Life's brick house crashed before my very eyes and we were powerless to stop it. When children die before parents, when cancer strikes, or heart failure wins, or any tragedy hits everyone all at once.

When the dust clears, and tears are dry for now, we have to do the next thing.
Our place doesn't look anything like it used to, and it won't be the same ever again.
Sometimes we have to relocate to rebuild our lives. Sometimes we rebuild while we are still working on making sense of everything.

But before we can rebuild, we have to sort through the rubble.
Clean up, start at square one.

My first plan would be search for the valuables. What do we need to keep from this? Every scrap, every minute detail of memories together with our son are kept safe. I plan on making a quilt from his favorite T-shirts someday.

Next, we make piles out of the brokenness. What parts are so ruined that we can not fix? We must get rid of everything that does not help us rebuild. People, habits, things, whatever it may be that isn't essential to who you have become. We are not who we used to be. How can we expect to be, when part of us is missing?

Then, go through the area again, to check for anything you may have missed. Don't be too hasty, or make rash decisions, but take your time and it will begin to make sense, eventually.

Daily, I am looking at a picture of my son in my locket, or from an album, or on the wall, and I find myself searching for another piece of history.

One more memory to squeeze out of my teardrop.

I can always find another story to retell, if I look hard enough.
Recapturing that moment makes the good times come back - he really is a part of us!
Sometimes my grief brain plays tricks on me, and I wonder if it was all a bad dream, and then, it's hard to separate reality from torment, not even sure if I had any good days.
Then I look at his smiling pictures, I am reassured of the beautiful years we shared, and I treasure every single teardrop knowing they are the only hug I have to offer.
God promised that He is keeping those tears stored in a bottle.
Why? I don't really know.
I'd like to think that perhaps they are like a telegram in heaven.
Because I know there is no sorrow in heaven, I know our loved ones aren't sad for us, so I would like to think that when they see the tears, all they see is love.
That is just speculation from a grieving mother's heart, of course. But it can be a healing, nonetheless. I am still rebuilding, whatever it takes.