Ski Pants

Just over two years ago Kurt and I went up to Elk Ridge with Kiley, Jessica and our friends Graham and Chelsea for a couples retreat through their church.

It was a good weekend - but very emotional. We talked a lot about our recent loss and the acuteness of Autumn's death was severe having only buried her 2 months before.

There are only so many things to do in northern Saskatchewan in January: sledding, skating, and hot-tubing, being pretty much the limit. (I do not cross-country ski.) So we packed up the appropriate clothes for the outing when we left for the weekend.

The day we were going to go sledding, I pulled out my ski pants and tried to get them on without much thought. To my dismay, they didn't even go past my thighs.

It wasn't so much the fact that they didn't fit - as much as why they didn't fit. The weight gain, the discomfort, the agony of missing Autumn, and the seeming uselessness of it was more than I could handle. I locked myself in the bathroom and bawled my eyes out. I hated it - my situation, my body which had betrayed me, my weight... Everything was wrong. And there was no escape.

I walked that valley. The memory makes me kinda shiver... I hope I never feel such despair ever again. For this, I tell the Lord my fears, and leave it with Him. That's enough for me today.

But two years have passed, and my husband decided he wanted to go skiing for his 30th birthday (only a week later). He arranged for his parents to come babysit, and he and I are going to go for the day to a local ski hill and just be together. Like a couple. Imagine that! ;)

But skiing requires ski pants. And I haven't tried those suckers on since that day over 2 years ago. I know I've lost a lot of weight - but that feeling of shock and dismay was still pretty clear in my memory - not an easy thing to shake when it's so tied to the emotions of the time period.

So I took a deep breath and pulled them on. They not only fit, but they were lose enough to squat in comfortably. Yay! :)

It's funny how little things can bring it all back, though. I have a feeling the rest of my life will be filled with little nuances like that. A little PTSD of my own, I suppose...

I told someone the other day that the grief has faded from a hurricane - violent and all consuming - to a sun shower. It's still there persistently - but it's gentle - and the sun shines through. Some days the effects of the rain are more obvious - but my sense of joy has become more consistent.

I have peace.
Wow God.
Wow.

That's even better than the ski pants fitting again.