About a week ago, I had a dream.  In this dream Jeff and I were talking near a pond.  It was in the woods, it was cool and kind of dark.   We were talking and laughing about the kids.  After a while he told me he had to go, and I was sad.  He told me to knock it off, he told me that he couldn’t come back no matter how much he or I wanted him to.  I cried and tried to convince him to come back.  Then he yelled at me, and told me that it was impossible for him to come back.  When I woke up I was kinda pissed at him.  Then I thought about it some more and realized that he was only trying to make me face reality.  He was actually doing me a favor(in a weird sort of way).  Now I feel like I have more control of my life.  I feel more sure of my decisions.  I feel more centered. 

It’s kind of weird how things happen, things that shouldn’t happen, happen anyways.  I’m not exactly sure what why or how these things happen.  I can’t change what happens, but I do have faith that things do happen for a reason, even if we don’t know what that reason is.  We have to accept the things we can not change. 

5 responses to “acceptance

  1. I find these dreams comforting. You are really great. Wish I was in Canada; I’d love to sit and have a cup of coffee or cocoa with you. In the meantime, I sure am greatly inspired by you.

  2. Funny thing ab0ut blogs is that people from all over just seem to find them and for some reason yours popped up and I didn’t know why, but then I read it and realised that somehow your blog had come under my gaze because my children’s father died suddenly 2 years ago, when they were just 10 and 8. So I know a little what you’re going through. Part of me wants to talk to you about it, but I haven’t really talked to anyone about it. I’ve been locked inside undergoing a deep deep journey that I wouldn’t have asked for but now have to face. I thought I was coping at first but towards the end of the 1st year I totally fell apart. I couldn’t tell you where I was or what happened to my little family the whole of that year. It’s just a blur. Christmas is hard, birthdays are hard, anniversaries are hard. Coping up to the 2nd Christmas and the 2nd anniversary I fell apart again. I say this not to be miserable but just to acknowledge that it is a long, long journey that you are embarking on. It is hard but somewhere at its core is an incredible opportunity for transformation. You will never be the same again. Your kids, your life, will never be the same again. You feel things at a depth most other people have never experienced. This marks you out as different. Someone said to me that grief will hollow you out, but that process allows a space inside you for more spirit/light/God – whatever you call that mysterious thing, the lifeforce. Gradually, slowly, I am feeling that.

    I have been helped to honour my journey by a book called ‘Dark Nights of the Soul’ by Thomas Moore, which might appeal to you too.

    My heart reaches out to you from here in a seaside town in southern England, to your northern wilderness in Canada and I send my love to you and your family. We scattered Brendan’s ashes in a beautiful Buddhist monastery near here, and placed a bench there bearing the Sufi blessing: ‘May the lamp of love stay lit’. I wish for you the same in any dark hours that lie ahead.

  3. Laura, you’ve been on my mind a lot lately. I’m so grateful that you dreamed of Jeff (& pls tell him to tell Josh to hurry up & get in MY dreams!!).

    I just like that it gave you peace. I’m all for finding peace these days.

  4. Laura, I think dreams mean something too. I got this when I had my oldest when I was 17 and a junior in HS,

    God grant me the serenity
    to accept the things I cannot change;
    courage to change the things I can;
    and wisdom to know the difference.

    Living one day at a time;
    Enjoying one moment at a time;
    Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
    Taking, as He did, this sinful world
    as it is, not as I would have it;
    Trusting that He will make all things right
    if I surrender to His Will;
    That I may be reasonably happy in this life
    and supremely happy with Him
    Forever in the next.

    –Reinhold Niebuhr

    It’s help many times, my divorce from 1st husband the unexpected death of my cousin at 20, and my sister at 23. Still praying and sending hugs.

  5. Laura, I truly believe he WAS talking to you. He still loves you, that will never change.

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