This week at church, we were asked “what are you hungry for?” My first response was “I could really go for some scrambled eggs.” Not so sure that’s the kind of answer they were looking for. The message was all about our hunger in life. What do we long for? Love, acceptance, rest?
It made me think about my direction with Owen’s Memorial. I just don’t know what to do … or how to start. Yes, I want to do the pay it forward thing and help others. I think it would be great to fund other service projects. But is that what my mission or purpose is? How can one be sure that you are doing what the big man upstairs wants you to be doing? It’s not like you can look at him in the face and he’ll give you the reassuring head nod. I can’t get a sign of approval on a piece of paper. I’m screaming inside … I just want to know what I’m supposed to do. I pray about it every day. I groan every time someone asks me what the plan is.
I just don’t know! Is the hesitantly coming from me not wanting to make a final decision? Is it that I’m really worried about “doing the right thing?” I just feel like once I put something into motion there will be something better. Then what? Crap … I screwed up Owen’s entire memorial. I just want to do him justice. Everything else has been perfect. Ok, short of the funeral home we chose … that’s a whole different blog post! I just don’t want to make the wrong choice.
I remember feeling similar when deciding what to name Jaden. It was the first gift I gave my new baby boy and one I’d never be able to take back. It could effect his future. It could have a 1,283 horrible rhyming words or be something that torments him. What if he hates his name when he grows up? What if there was something better I should have chosen? I wanted the very best for my son and it tore me up inside not knowing for sure that I was doing the right thing.
When Owen was dying I knew what I should be praying for. I prayed to be open to what was meant to be. I prayed for my son to be safe and happy. If he didn’t want to live in a prison body, then I would love him beyond this earth. But now I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.
I know I can blog, but what do I blog about? How Logan and Weston spit up blueberries all over this morning and then rolled around in it? Or how Jaden decided that he wanted to spend his morning in his underwear? Or the walk to the new park that was supposed to be tons of fun, but turned into Jaden crying hysterically the whole way home because he was so hot? Or how I made 10 lbs of baby food? While it’s my life now, it hardly seems important enough to write about. My blogs turn into a meaningless regurgitation of my day. Makes for a pretty boring blog.
In ways I feel like God just sort of dropped me on the curb and said, ok, now find your way home. I was there, full in his presence and confident in my purpose. And now I feel lost and unsure. Lord, do you hear me? Am I still on your radar? Or do you have Owen and have gone on to other dying children? To comfort other parents who are on the brink of loosing their worlds?
In my logical mind I know he loves me. It’s not that I don’t believe or am doubting my faith. But any time he’d like to give me a little direction or nudge in the right direction of his plan, that would be great.
I keep hearing wonderful stories of how Owen’s story has spread or how people have changed because of it. New faces keep showing up at church. Maybe in addition to the two little girls who got his liver and heart, he “saved” others? I have to be honest … I’m not sure what is different about this story compared to other babies who passed. Why do some react to this story? What makes someone who at one time swear off silicone bracelets wear a “donate life” one for two months straight? Maybe if I could tap into that I would have a better idea of my path from here.
Let’s go with it … if you are moved … why? Why this story and not another blog or baby? Why Owen? Why me? Maybe it has nothing to do with me and it’s all Owen? Or visa versa? Why do you wear OWENGE? What does it mean to you? How or why has it changed you? Maybe I’m assuming too much and it hasn’t. Tell me that too. What about this makes it an “ordinary” story?
I’m begging for some help here. Help me figure out what to do. Where do I go? I so badly want to keep the movement going. Please … help … please?