November 20, 2020

56 days of brave

It’s been eight weeks since Bostyn has been gone. 56 days to be exact. 

I have written about fifty six versions of “how this is going”. It is always tempting on social media to share the lemonade version of life. Life gives us lemons and we squeeze the crap out of them and pray hard and make some freaking version of lemonade. That’s what we all want to hear right? At least that’s what we all want to share. Things are smooth and we have the strength to do it all. We want to paint a beautiful picture so others don’t judge our hard with the perfect life lenses they seem to be living in. 

I could say I have been strong, her siblings have been rock stars. It would be easy to tell you we have been blessed with comfort every day and peace to just know and trust that she is ok. I could say she is thriving and is accelerating in her progress and everything has come so easy for her. I could tell you she just jumped back to eating meals and motivated every day to get healthy and she will be home in record time. I could...and a part of me wants to. 

But the truth...this crap is hard. The past eight weeks—56 days—have been rough. And because of the pandemic, we haven’t and won’t be able to see her until she is a date we have no idea when it will be. We have all been struggling and have scared moments that bring fears that just like the 12 people these kids have lost—in their short lives—to death, and a sister to divorce...Bostyn might not come back. It has been a grief cycle that a lot of days feels impossible. Many days I have struggled to find the positive and have felt overwhelmed if I look much past a few days or hours at a time. I have hurt hearing how she is hurting, and felt helpless knowing there is nothing I can do to fix this for her. 

Through her healing process, Bostyn has been facing some dark moments from the past. She is working her butt off...and coming face to face with pain, fear, loss, and trauma...all the while trying to figure out how to get her body to accept nourishment and find balance—a balance between figuring out how to be free from false beliefs and finding truth. 

Anorexia isnt just about eating or food even. It is about control, beliefs and struggles so much deeper than the surface. For many, anorexia comes with a belief that you would rather be nearing death daily than nearing your phobia of being “fat”—for many, in their minds, there is nothing in between. It comes with pain and heart ache, on both ends—the person fighting the battle, and the family and friends that are cheering them on. Anorexia comes with beliefs that don’t get changed by forced eating and constant hourly and daily monitoring. Anorexia comes with feeling disconnected, and for those in a center—being all alone surrounded by people they don’t know—it takes away any connections they still had. Anorexia comes with hard. Freedom from it is a process of digging through past pain, accepting your story, forgiving those who have hurt you, finding yourself again, and remembering who you are. Tools to not only make yourself eat, but remembering why your body is worthy of being protected, cared for, and treated with love. 

So is she doing? Just like most of her life she is doing “more”. She is doing...more strong. She is practicing...more brave. And just like she has shown up time after time and challenge after life challenge...she is fighting hard and not giving up. 

And just like all of us at many points in our lives...she is fighting a battle she has to win for herself. And it just about rips my heart out every day—this claustrophobic sense of helplessness. Constantly being reminded that I have to let go and trust in a plan bigger than myself. Constantly reminding myself that I am not able to save her...but pleading to the One who can. I am learning a new perspective of putting my trust in Him, and having faith that He knows just where she is. 

Every night I pray:  Help her see her worth...the way Christ sees her. Help her see her strength, the strength she was born with. Help her win this fight, the way she battled when she was four years old fighting for her life. Help her remember who she is, bless the cloud of pain to be taken from her. Help her to remember what she is passionate about, the way she lived and loved before pain told her she wasn’t enough. Help her to forgive, the many imperfect people in her life—including me—who haven’t done everything right. Help her to know her dad adored her, and I am sure would give anything if he could have had the chance to come back and show her had nothing to do with her. He had his own demons he was fighting. Help her to find her smile, the one that many have turned to for strength. Help her remember how to sparkle, for there has never been another who did it as bright as her. Help her to remember she was never made to shrink, but stand tall. Help her to feel her angels near always, and to pray when she loses sight of her truths. Help her to know she is worth it, she is loved beyond measure, and she is enough—far beyond enough. Help us to have faith in the timeline and know that God will prevail. 

We can do hard things. At least that’s what “they” say. Who are they anyway? Some days those hard things feel stronger than us...and to be honest some days they are. But there are always tomorrows. 

Tomorrow sometimes feels pretty far away—and sometimes new clouds take away even more of the light—but new tomorrow’s never stops coming. And eventually—just as the hard days have in the past—the sun starts shinning again and putting one foot in front of the other gets easier end easier. Today might be stormy, but tomorrow—some tomorrow—it will be one of the sunny perfect days. 

I know this world is scary and unknown and so many of you are going through the unimaginable. We got this guys. I know there are going to be some brighter tomorrows. I believe in grace, I have felt His strength walking with me and Bostyn, as I know she could never come face to face with the past without Him...because we know He was there with us too. 

And I know with all my heart...He has been in your story as well. 

I have really been thinking of Gods love for all of us lately. There are so many times in my life when I have thought...”Does Heavenly Father really remember me? Does he really know where I am and what I am going through? What makes me so special that He would spend much time on me? He has a million others, does He really care what I am going through?” As a mom who has a lot of kids, I can promise doesn’t matter how many of them are right here with me, when one of them is lost or hurting or far away...a piece of my heart is with them. ALWAYS. I wake up in the middle of the night praying for her, I wipe tears every morning as I fail to even put into letters everything I want her to know. I think of her as we gather for prayer and it always feels like someone is missing. And so does He. Just like this mother who believes in her and will not give up on her...He is not either. 

God is aware of all of us. And when one of us is lost or broken or hurting...He doesn’t forget or get to busy. He hurts for us—He weeps with us. He walks with us. 

In case you have ever thought...”I am not important, He doesn’t care where I am.” I promise you this...He always remembers the one who is lost and hurting, and He doesn’t stop loving them even when they are far away. 

Hold tight to your little ones. We  don’t know the journeys they are going to be called to travel. It will not always be our strength that keeps them above water, but it can be our faith that can teach them how to be strong.  We must show them what courage looks like so they can learn how to be brave. We must show them that grace is going to be apart of their story too, then step back when it is that grace they need to hold on to. He never said it would be easy, and good heck it isn’t...but He did promise us that it would be worth it. 

I am thankful for the truths I know. I am thankful for a Heavenly Father who always remembers me...and especially remembers my Bostyn. I am thankful for hope...even on the days I have to fight to feel it. I am thankful for the holidays—though this year will be unique and will feel incomplete—there are memories to be made. I am thankful for a Savior that I know is with each of us wherever we are asked to walk, and His light that lights our way. 

~Sending you angels and light BoBo. Your cheerleaders—those you can see and those you can’t—are always there. 

Love you to the moon and back, Mom~


Also...I am thankful for a therapist who got this video call approved so these siblings could see her face for a few minutes. That was a great blessing for them. ❤️


Rachael said...

Thank you for your honesty and bravery in sharing your struggles, and to your children, too! As I read your post it hit me that your whole family is on a sort of mission. For a while you’ll be away from each other, but once it’s the right time again and everyone has experienced what they needed, there will be a glorious reunion. You’ll all be able to share your struggles, achievements, experiences and faith with each other and you’ll look back and realize how strong you each were to endure ‘the squeezing of the lemons’ and to survive the sour tastes that sometimes comes from lemonade. Your family and sweet daughter is in my prayers, and may God continue to grant you guys His grace. ❤️

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