Those Stupid Beans

I said in a previous post that the "triggers" can pop up when they are least expected.  I found out with my Daddy that sometimes things that you expect to be rough, you just sail right through.  But then, out of nowhere....here it comes.

This morning, I sent my baby girl off to school.  I knew I would take pictures.

I knew I would do our traditional before school interview.



I knew I would want to send it to her.  I knew my heart would hurt because I know exactly what she would say: "Oooohhhhh, my sweet little Annabelle.  She just couldn't be any prettier, could she?  Look at those sparkly shoes!  Myyyy goodness!  You know she and I love anything with bling!  She's just like her Grandmama!!"

I can just hear it.

I knew that not hearing it was going to rip my heart apart.

But surprise!  I did fine.  No tears!  I sent the pictures to her other grandparents that love her just as much, posted one on FB, and moved on to the rest of the day.

So at this point, (stupidly) in the back of my head, I thought, "I've got this!  If I made it through that, today is in the bag!"

Nope.

Brad started asking mid-day what I thought we could do for dinner - he knew I would need that long to make a menu - given my recent attention span and decision making skills ;)  Our sweet Sunday School class is blessing us with meals for 2 weeks, every other day.  But, today was my day to cook.

We tossed a few ideas around.  Nothing really sounded good easy enough.  Then, I thought about 3 big bags of frozen peas that mom had sent home with me recently.  I thought maybe some peas, ham, and cornbread sounded good, plentiful, and most importantly, easy.

Thing is, I grew up on this meal, but I've never cooked it.  I've watched it cooked probably 100 times.  I know how it's done.  I know what she would tell me to do.

But I just needed to ask her.  I just needed confirmation.  I just needed to hear her tell me.  I just needed to hear her voice.

Were there 20 other people that I could think of that could tell me what to do?  Sure.  But it's not the stupid beans.  It's just that I need her.

I don't feel ready to be a mother without her.  I don't feel ready to be a housewife without her.  I just don't feel ready to not have my momma.

But obviously, God thinks that I can do it.

So I push on.  I move forward knowing that it gets easier.  I persevere knowing that God's on my side and He has never failed to give me the strength I need to face any situation.

All of the above, plus.....I've got 25 or so voicemails that I have saved on my phone where I can hear her say over and over, "Hey Baby!  Sorry I couldn't get to my phone.  Call me back, please.  I love you!"  I have every text message that she's ever written me saved.  I THANK GOD that I've never deleted an email that she sent me and I can re-read her words of encouragement and over-reaction to every single blog post and picture of my babies.

I knew.  I knew that one day (in the waaaaay waaaaay future) the time would come when every single thing about her would become sacred.  I knew that when my Daddy died, I couldn't throw away post-it notes that he had scribbled on.  I knew that taking the time to save and read every single forward (and there were A LOT of forwards) that she sent me would someday mean something.

And I was right.

I knew that I shouldn't delete the one she sent on July 26, 2012, entitled "Fw: Sisters".  It sat in my inbox, unread, til August 3....two days after she was gone.

So what was the last email I read from my momma?  It went like this:

Dear God:

The lady reading this is beautiful, classy, strong and I love her.

Help her live her life to the fullest.

Please promote her and cause her to excel above her expectations.

Help her shine in the darkest places where it is impossible to love.

Protect her at all times, lift her up when she needs you the most,

And let her know when she walks with you, she will always be safe..

Love you Girl!!

And then it had something about forwarding it to 6 people or something. :)

But really??  THAT'S the last one???

THANK GOD He is in the details.

THANK GOD that my momma told me time and again that the reason she and Daddy were so black and white was because someday, when they weren't around, I would know what their answer to any question would be.

She was right.

It's been exactly 4 weeks since I talked to her.  But she is never far away.  She "marked" me enough so that I cook beans for the first time and they taste just like hers.  

THANK GOD.