“There was a change in Mother after Dad died. A change in looks and a change in manners. . . .
While Dad lived, Mother was afraid of fast driving, of airplanes, of walking alone at night. When there was lighting, she went in a dark closet and held her ears …
Now, suddenly, she wasn’t afraid any more, because there was nothing to be afraid of. Now nothing could ever upset her because the thing that mattered most had been upset. None of us ever saw her weep again.”
Belles on their Toes
by Frank Bunker Gilbreth, Jr.
and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
I first read this quote last April on a blog I frequent. It came to mind later that month during one of the darkest most painful moments of my life. The sentiment sunk deep into my soul. I realized my greatest fears, all the things I never thought I could survive, were happening. The crazy thing was while part of me died another part of me was born. A freedom from what-ifs.
What-ifs lost much of their power. Along with this mental freedom an emotional numbness crept into me last spring. A chilling sort of feeling compared to the warming physical world surrounding me. I struggled with this coldness. It was not how I wanted to live.
It was just part of the process. These changes in me are not instant or complete. They are continual, sequential and necessary. Like the math concepts I explain to my children, they have to be experienced and understood before you can go on and be successful at more complicated concepts. They also at times have to be revisited for a refresher.
This freedom from circumstances still comes in waves and on occasion the backwash will seem to pull me back toward an unwanted dark depth before the next wave rolls in sending me closer to the shore. The latest wave, or better description would be tsunami, thrust me a great distance further then I thought I would go. The ride was pure terror, the pull of the backwash that followed felt as if surely I would drown.
I survived. I gained unimaginable ground. It is not the way I would have chosen to travel, but this temporary destination, this calmness I now find is no longer numbing. There is a great warmth growing in the cold emptiness previously created in my heart. A gift was born from pain; a knowing of who I am when what-ifs become reality. As I resurface from the almost drowning, from the almost giving in to the cold dark rage, I still CHOOSE to hope, trust, love.
My imperfections, my failings, my mistakes do NOT define me.
My good qualities (few they may number), my successes, my correct actions do NOT define me.
God’s love defines me. God’s mercy defines me. God’s will defines me.
We travel different courses, carried by currents and thrown by waves called forth from the fiery sea of refinement. All leading to the same shore of Love covered in innumerable grains of mercy, forgiveness, and grace.
Fear not the what-ifs.
The space is fertile ground for more “unclean spirits” to move in because only on the surface was it removed. The roots remained to grow and become more fully entrenched. Any one familiar with twelve step programs knows removal of the “evil spirit” is only the beginning. The “house” must be filled with a clean spirit (character growth, virtue, wisdom, good works).
Unfortunately, we often throw things into the machine that really should be tossed out. Of course the obvious red crayon makes a mess, but we recognize that and learn our lesson right away. But what about the smaller things, less colorful and noticeable? We assume that since those things seem to have come out clean with our laundry or were rinsed away easily enough it is okay to keep them in our pockets. Since the machine seemed to handle it we become lax in our sorting and more and more junk is thrown in the load and yet we still expect our laundry to come out clean.
2- Replace it: We can replace it. We seek out other washer replacers who support us as they too are wanting a new machine. We are thrilled with the capabilities of the new machine and convince ourselves our old one never worked this well. Since we don’t understand why the other machine stopped working and we still have the same laundry habits this new machine eventually doesn’t work for us either. From machine to machine we go never really understanding why none of them work well for us or last. We think we understand all about the machine for having tried it, but we really don’t know all the cool features or how the machine runs because we never open it up, we never studied it before moving on to the next one. We may even eventually opt for number one, trash it.
If competant and if we give them full access to our machine and enough time the expert will point out the 
will deep clean us if needed, teach us how the machine is built and set us up with our original machine now restored. We may even become repairmen ourselves. No limitations and but the guarantee expires upon death.
Shortly after we moved here four years ago we began to attend Mass on Wednesday evenings. It was an incredible blessing. There was something so special about sitting in the church surrounded by many of the people that were essentially the core of the church ministries. It occurred to me one evening sitting there with my husband and children that we were part of the church’s future. We were going to be the next generation to help fill the positions in the ministries that serve the community. The idea scared and excited me all at the same time.