“Soooo…?”

Everybody’s got a name for it…the elephant in the room…the 900 lb. gorilla in the room…the question no one wants to pose…

“Soooo…how are you doing?”

I hate it. Just keepin’ it real, peeps. Because, although asked with the most genuine sincerity and concern, it never takes a prisoner alive. In that moment, I have a decision to make.  Fudge the reality for the sake of the questioner…pull myself up by my britches and try to navigate through the tumultuous answer…or just lie. It’s that simple.

To be perfectly honest, you’d also get varying degree of answers from different people that have to deal with yours truly. My kids would probably say I’m doing mostly ok. The hubs would express some concern. My friends would say I’m handling it great. Me…I’d claim to be the hottest mess of all hot messes that have ever been messed with…in the heat. (That sounded better in my head) . I should also mention that I went into this trial a non-crier. If you know the Carr family, that pretty much makes me an outcast.  Although I’ve definitely been known to breakdown over these past couple years…I’ve still got a long way to go to catch up.  Anyway, just tuck that little 411 in your back pocket…Eva is not a crier…crud. So take that girl and have her randomly bursting into tears at the blink of an eye….yea, that’s it…now you’ve got it figured out.

My own response would vary from day to day…or more like…moment to moment. You see, that’s what grief does to you…creeps up when you least expect it…when you’re most vulnerable…when the ugly cry-face can cause the most discomfort. As a matter of fact, I can illustrate my point exactly.

On Tuesday of this past week, I had to make the fated journey back up to the hospital for a doctor’s appointment of my own.  I was heavy-hearted when I started the journey…even texted a couple friends and asked them to pray for strength…and the anxiety had increased to a Vadar force, the closer I drew.  By the time I arrived, I was taking deep breaths and pleading with God to calm my spirit. My best friend, Denial, and her ugly cousin, Avoidance, walked me straight into the waiting room and plopped a squat beside my alter ego, Distraction. (You know some Hollywood types will be stealing my names within the next year. Lame.)

Regardless, the Comforter did answer those prayers, and the 2 hour visit sailed by. I was even able to talk about Zoe and the whole journey with the nurse at length.  Remarkably, she had a harder time than I did.  Huge moment. When it was time to leave, I felt overwhelmingly compelled to venture up to the PICU to encourage another mom that’s been there since March with her sweet babe…and to personally thank the nurses that had cared so well for Zoe.  Again I asked for peace and comfort…again He gave it.  I can assure you, you’ve never known another friend so faithful…who will all your sorrows bear.

What a sweet reunion God provided with those amazing individuals.  Smiles of recognition.  Arms stretched wide open. Hugs of encouragement.  Words of comfort. Acknowledgement of shared pain when our paths crossed ever so briefly. All because of a sweet little China doll that has changed our lives forever. Our lives are now inextricably linked because of her, and I’m forever grateful for it.

 “Zoe’s mom”…that’s how they know me there. It’s got kind of a ring to it, don’t you think?  No one can take that from me. It’s a gift I will always cherish.

Interestingly enough, the gal I went to see had stepped out of the hospital for a little bit. I knew why God led me there. Healing…encouragement…comfort…peace. I left the hospital that day much different than the last time…with a smile on my face and a small measure of peace in my heart. 

Fast-forward a few hours…HOURS, mind you. I had to run to Wally World to get a prescription and a few odds and ends. I was sailing through the store until I swung into the kids’ section to grab some shorts for Mr. Z.  Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by every cute thing Zoe had wanted me to buy…and even some she’d not noticed, but would’ve looked so sweet on her.  I was overcome with emotion as the room began spinning out of control. There I was…sobbing…in the middle of Walmart, of all places. It seems laughable that I’d just spent some considerable time at the place of her death, yet couldn’t make it through…have I mentioned…W.A.L.M.A.R.T.!!! I struggled to breathe and had to take a good amount of time before I could even move. 

I’ve thought a good bit about the two drastically different encounters with the reality of Zoe’s death, and I can only come to one conclusion. I went in prepared for one and not the other.  I knew, without a doubt, that going back up to the U would be heart-breaking. I knew I needed to pray and be bathed in prayer. I knew the enemy would be attacking with despair…with hopelessness…with anger…with bitterness, and it would be a battle. I went into Walmart…careless. I put on the armor in one and went fully unarmed with gaping wounds into the other.  The vultures were circling, and I didn’t realize that I was the carcass fresh for the eating…until it was too late.

Soooo….how’s it going?!? I’m still a hot mess…of epic proportions…but my God is the God of all comfort, and He continues to pick me up and carry me in His gentle arms every time these knees buckle.  Some days it’s just more often than not…but He never gets weary.