I just set up, installed, printed, and connected to a cloud a new printer ALL ON MY OWN. I am not sure you grasp the gravity of that statement. Never in my life did I think I would be able to do such a thing. Or even need to. But (by the grace and patience of God), I did it! And now I am sitting here in tears because it's just one more reminder of this new reality of living without my man who could and did everything for me. What took me 2 hours would have taken him 10 minutes. Reality is closing in more and more each day that he's gone. He's really gone. Every time I sit down to try and organize the school room and school books and school stuff I am just overwhelmed. The first day we do school in there is not only the beginning of a new chapter, but a very real end to an old one. One I didn't want to ever see end here on this earth. That room has always been Kevin's room. He designed it, he built it, and he spent countless hours in there working hard to provide for the family he so loved and cherished.
Sometimes when I walk in there I feel guilt at just wiping away all of his work. Just moving it all to the storage area and looking forward to the day that mess is no longer in my house. Other times I think how proud he would be that I had a vision, went for it, and refused to let something just sit because it was hard to use it. Still other times, I think of all the pain, heart ache, depression, and addiction that happened in that room and I want to seal it up and pretend like it was never a part of this house. The flip side of that feeling is wanting to shove it in Satan's face that God can even redeem and reclaim a room, so I want to just pour everything into the room and the school that will happen there.
And sometimes I am just mad. Just mad at Kevin for being an idiot. (I promised to always be truthful.) He should have known better. He should have thought through things. He should have never become addicted in the first place. It's been a long two weeks of losing battles because of his cause of death. It's been a long month of wishing I could get things done, but the bank won't let me because they think the court gave me the wrong papers. None of this would be happening if Kevin were still here. Still fighting. Still holding on. Still being the man I married. And I just want to throw a pity party!
As school gets closer and closer the anxiety gets stronger and stronger. There is no doubt in my mind that we are to be homeschooling this year. God has prepared and granted too many things for that not to be true. But I just can't focus my mind or make myself organize things. Sticking with the whole honesty thing, this is the first week in 5 months I have used the computer sitting anywhere other than my bed. It's the first time I haven't spent all of my time in my house (other than making meals) in my room on my bed because that's all I could handle. It has felt good. Almost back to normal. And then there's school. I have been able to put lesson plans into the computer, but the closer school gets the harder it is to even walk in the room. At least for me. I am praising God that it seems to be easier and easier for the kids to use that room. Especially Sophie. It's her dance studio. She has had so much fun in there. I am so thankful.
But, we all still call it the office. Or Daddy's office. Not sure we'll ever, consistently, call it the school room. That's not the use for which it was intended. It not the use for which I ever dreamt it would be used. I want the office back. I want my husband back. I want my family back.
Though it's not the life I intended, it's the life I've been gifted and the life I must live. Yes, I cry. I scream. I rant and rave. I fill pages and pages of journals with the hurt, pain, fear, confusion, doubt, worries, insecurity, and everything else that pops into this head. But, like King David, at the end of the day, my lips must still praise Him. He is God. He is in control. He is a good, good Father. He is perfect in all of his ways to me. To Sophie. To Ethan. To Kevin. Grace upon grace upon grace upon grace has been lavished on me and my family. Even when I didn't see it. Even when I ignored it. Even when I didn't think it looked like grace.
Oh, Father, open my eyes to see each gift of grace You lavish upon me. Give me a love for this new room. Give me a JOY at entering its door in order to teach and train my children in the way You have asked. Give me peace as I sit at a desk that was built for equipment but is now filled with books and papers and all things school. Give Sophie and Ethan a passion for learning Your word and for using each subject they learn to make them more able to serve You and others. Father, do great and mighty things which we could never think or imagine in that room that once was darkness and depression and death, but is now light and life and JOY. Only because of You! Father, as we enter this room for school, the beginning of one chapter and the end of another, let us remember the old chapter with sweetness and joy and love and look ahead to the new chapter with hope and peace and joy. Only You can help us do that!