This End Up

Mom went home to Jesus months ago and I stand here jealously staring at a cardboard box. THIS END UP. Even the box knows how to orient itself in life. It fits neatly on a shelf next to all the other boxes that are snuggled up with no gaps. I long for that feeling. 

I wonder some days where I fit now? I feel my sides bowing out and my tape coming loose and the label printed with my name seems to have rubbed off.  

I don't dare send this post out into my little world for fear of all of the kind backlash. "She went home to Jesus, she's free from all of her pain." Like somehow I have forgotten that Heaven is a beautiful place and I deserve a good dressing down for grieving.  

I understand sackcloth and ashes now. If the temperature were conducive to burlap you would find me settled in the raised bed next to the cabbages. A rabbit might come by and nibble on my toes. Does it have a mother? Perhaps it would like to join me for a while here in the cool soil and we will stare at the trees gently moving in the wind. I'm listening for her voice. I'm looking for those signs people told me she would leave now and then but I can't find them. 

Do I lack faith? No. Have I forgotten her peace and joy at being present with Jesus and reunited with her family? No. I am only sad and lonely, wishing for her companionship both physically and in prayer and incredibly jealous of this stupid box. I think I will burn it. 

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