Just a glimpse through the rain

At times I am permitted to glimpse hope. I may have several days in a row when my daughters are both (or individually) difficult and intractable. I may have daily wells of grief that come up and out of me, but there are moments when I see what could be.

I had one of those this week.

We went camping with a friend and her son. It was a hot day and I was exhausted from getting everything ready, packed and in the car. I was tired, cranky and overwhelmed. The children were not helpful, and when we did interact it was unpleasant. Then, as we drove to the campground, I was caught for speeding in a small town (eek - I'm generally more careful to watch my speed, but not this day). $238 later, we were back on our way.

We set up camp, which was more complicated by the fact that my husband knew a lot of things I didn't (or so I realized when the pop up tent wouldn't pop up). By the time we fell into bed, I was ready to sleep. But by midnight, the air in my airmattress had disappeared through an invisible leak and I was sleeping on the ground (or at least trying to sleep).

About 4am, the rain started and didn't stop. By 7pm we decided it wasn't worth sticking it out for another night, and we struck camp to go home.

That's when I caught the glimpse.

Both my daughters stepped up and helped without one single complaint. Not once did I hear them quarrel (that is quite a feat), nor did I hear a whining voice, muttering, murmuring or anger. It took us about 2 hours to pack it all up in the rain and we were covered in mud by the time we'd done everything.

I saw my daughters persevere and work together to fit their tent into the little carry case it comes in. I saw them jump up on a wet picnic table to untie the tarpaulin. I watched them cram things into the car, and come right back to do something else without jumping into the seat and needing to be nagged/reminded to come back to help.

I was so proud and a little glimmer of hope filled my heart. Maybe they can learn. Maybe they can overcome. Just maybe God knows what He's doing!

On the way home, my older daughter took responsibility for keeping me awake by chattering away. She said that she thought camping should be an annual tradition in our family. Well, that was unexpected.

And then the next day, when everything needed to be cleaned off and put away, I only had to ask once. Once again, they stepped up to help without too many complaints.

I am very thankful.

At the same time, I have to confess that camping was far more emotional than I had thought. We drove up the road I last travelled to and from the hospital where my husband spent two nights before he died (he was deemed no longer a suicide risk and sent home and then died a day later at his own hand).

I passed the restaurant where we had lunch the day he was released. That day stuck in my throat as I looked at him as a man I no longer knew, and felt his fragility. I was also horribly anxious about whether or not this had all really happened. Was he really suicidal? Was it all just imaginary? Even now, I can't find any signs - but I'm not a psychiatrist or an expert on these things.

I remembered the many camping trips we'd had together over the last 15 years. We were rained out a few times, and we endured the rain other times. I remember him getting up with me in the middle of a deluge because I needed to go to the toilet and I was nervous to go on my own (I got over that). I missed his skill in setting up a camp fire, and putting up a tarp that wouldn't drain water all over us.

I just missed him and this is only the beginning of all the times I will miss him, and feel in my heart that he should still be here. He didn't have to die. But he did.

So I am thankful for those glimpses of hope, because they bring me out of the sadness and into possibility.