Wrung Out Heart

"Enjoy the day."

I often used this phrase to close communique sent out during Samuel's hospital stays and during times of his extreme sufferings.  We were certainly not enjoying the days but we didn't begrudge you enjoying yours.  During those times, I received a lot of notes back from people who said they were not longer taking their blessings in life for granted.   And so it goes.  I'm working hard daily to take my own advice.  We've endured the tough road and have the scars to prove it, but currently, in comparison, we're walking the easy one.  So, I'm trying to take in and savor all the blessings I can just as Samuel did when he got a reprieve from troubled times. 

Last Friday was no exception.  For Christmas, Mark received a gift card to the Red Lobster.  We had been waiting for an opportunity to use it for weeks.  There isn't one within our normal circle of traveling and either the weather was too awful to go, or traffic was going to be terrible, or we had all the kids when we really wanted to go alone.  As it happened last Friday, all the kids had somewhere to go for the night, the weather was decent, and the only real issue was that neither of us wanted to sit in the traffic.  But, we knew it was "now or who knows when," so we decided to go and as we were getting ready to walk out the door, Mark flipped the card over and noticed that it was also accepted at three other restaurants including the Olive Garden.  There is one of those within our usual circle of travel so we both agreed this was perfect and a nice surprise too.   I haven't been into an Olive Garden in decades.

On the drive there, we talked about "so and so" who's doing "such and such" (over the top)  for his wife for Valentine's Day which was, in my opinion, an effort to prop up a troubled marriage.  Two people who've barely begun life together, have every materialistic thing their heart's desire, and yet true love and enjoyment of life's blessings is elusive.  They are completely unsatisfied with everything including each other.   My heart hurts for them because they have no grasp on what is truly important in life.   This is one end of a spectrum that has become ever so evident lately. These are people we love and want to "help" as well as be role models in marriage for, but unfortunately, it seems the only way a pair like this learns what is truly important in life is to suffer and lose it and even that's not a guarantee they'll figure it out.  If the Lord doesn't become part of the process somewhere along the way, there is truly little hope.

That leads me to the other end of the spectrum; the people I can only describe as being "wrung out."  Wrung out like a wash rag dripping full of water.  Clenched, twisted, turned, squeezed and squashed until you get no more excess out of it.   God seems to wring out lives He deems are too full of meaningless things. Note I say "He deems," not we deem because we usually see the the person being squeezed and ask, why them?  Why such wonderful people?  People like Toni, another person I want to help but can do little more than pray for at this point.  It doesn't seem fair AT ALL and yet after going through being completely wrung out, I know I am better, now, for it.   There is a painful purpose to it so let us learn from it now so we don't have to go through something even worse later if we don't.  My heart grieves for those on both ends of this spectrum.  One set doesn't know what they hold in their hand and are therefore wasting their days here and the other knows they will lose what's most important to them and begs God to grant them just one more day.

I'd peg Mark and I as being somewhere in the middle of this spectrum currently.  Thank God we have gotten past the days of feeling completely unsatisfied with the blessings we had right in front of us, and mercifully, we have gotten beyond the days of being wrung out.  As we neared the restaurant, I thanked God for His blessings in our lives and the amazing ways He is taking care of us.  I thought that Mark and I would enjoy this meal in the place of those who would eat and never be satisfied and also in place of those being wrung out who wouldn't even think of going out to an expensive dinner because it wouldn't help their aching hearts.  Certainly, we've experienced both sides and it's a lot more pleasant to be in the middle.


We pulled into the parking lot to find it packed at 4:30pm.  We thought we'd probably have to wait but were pleased to find out that the restaurant was huge and barely even full.  The hostess led us through a maze of rooms full of empty tables and I wondered why she didn't seat us closer to the entrance.  Finally, we reached a large room in the farthest corner of the building that had only one other table occupied.  As we got closer to the two person booth that was about to be ours, I realized that we were going to be seated right next to a woman with a small child.  I didn't want to sit there, at least not right next to them.  I was hoping for a nice quiet dinner without kids' voices interrupting and it's been awhile since we had one.  I almost asked if we could have the next booth over from them, but didn't thinking it was probably rude.

We sit down to eye menus full of food combinations we have never tasted before while the woman behind me ordered for herself and the child.  I say "the child" because at this point, I didn't know if it was a boy or a girl.  I cannot see well enough so determine age or sex.  I just hear them.  The woman is a little animated and after finally placing her order, apologized to us for taking so long to order just after our shared server apologized for taking so long to take our drink orders.  We didn't know what we wanted anyway so it wasn't a big deal on either account.  I don't know what the woman ordered for herself but the child got pizza.  I immediately looked at the pizza on the menu and thought about how if Samuel was there, he'd love to get a pizza even though he should never ever eat it.  It would twist his gut for days.  I imagined what it would have been like if he was able to eat without consequence and we were able to bring him here.

I would say that somewhere in the nearly three years without Samuel here, I've gotten used to going places without him and not feeling naked.  When all the kids are in tow, it's much easier to do.  But as I looked up from my menu to where Mark was sitting, I felt that familiar sting of Samuel's absence.   When he was here, I never went anywhere without him.  When times were good, he enjoyed going into restaurants with us and we enjoyed taking him because he appreciated it.   He didn't take away from our experience, he added to it, something our other children have yet to learn.  I miss that so much.

We placed our orders, and visited while we waited for our drinks and all the while, I could still hear the woman and the child's interactions.  The server came to ask them if they were on a time schedule to get to the movie they were apparently seeing next but the woman assured her they were fine.  Their soup, salad and bread arrived and the child told the mom that he/she was worried they could not eat all the food.  The mom said that it would be okay, they'd just take the food home to share with the dad and other siblings. Obviously, this was their special time.  I thought of how Samuel would love this place, the food choices if only he could eat, and how we'd give anything for him to be here with us.  He would have been so proud to bring his siblings some dinner home too.

Our drinks arrive and as I sip mine, I begin hearing the woman telling the child to say "cheese."  She snaps several pictures commenting on each one and I finally ask Mark if the child is a boy or a girl.

"It's a little boy dressed up in a suit.....like Pooper, " he says.

I was marginally okay until hearing he was wearing a suit.  Samuel loved his suit.   Only, we never got to take him anywhere special in it.   Just Christmas pictures and the time when Mark got all dressed up for a job interview and when Samuel saw him dressed up, he went and got dressed up too.  Today, that suit is packed up in a box filled with Samuel's things in hopes that one day there will be a grandson who will be able to enjoy them.

"That's exactly who they remind me of," I said as I let out the sadness that had built up to this point.   Between wiping tears I whispered, "I don't want to sit here."   Of course, now I didn't want to sit here for a completely different reason that at first.  This woman was doing the very thing I would have given anything to do, taking her obviously sweet little boy to dinner.  And not just any dinner, but the $18 a plate variety with the pictures to prove it.  And he would know it was special because he was all dressed up and smiling cute in every picture according to his mom.  Samuel would have loved this.  And after dinner, a movie too?   Sounded like heaven if only... I wanted to die in that two person booth that didn't even have room for Samuel to sit with us.

"How old is he?  Is he cute?" I whispered trying not to sob.

"He is probably about 3 or 4.  He's cute, but not Pooper cute," Mark said as he grabbed my hand which did not at all console me.  I was being wrung out right there in the back corner of the Olive Garden. 

"Where is this coming from?" Mark asked.

I couldn't even mouth words.  Very rarely in the grieving process have I been inconsolable but for the hour we spent cornered in this restaurant, I was.  I was overwhelmed by sadness.  Utterly ambushed by it.  The last time this happened in a restaurant was the day Samuel died.

At that point, I couldn't help it, I had to turn around to see them.   When I looked, they had crammed themselves both into one side of the two person booth.  Samuel would have thought it quite fun to squeeze into this two person booth right next to me.  He wouldn't have minded at all and neither would I.   I turned back to repeat that I did not want to sit here.  Our soup, salad and bread arrived then and I did my best to turn off the faucet.  The server placed this beautiful bowl of minestrone in front of me and it was all I could do to keep it from becoming tear soup.  I found out the starched cloth napkins are worthless at soaking up the water being wrung out from my eyes and nose.

The room was slowly filling up and Mark said that he didn't really want to move but would if I really wanted to.  We both agreed that it would be even more rude to ask for a change of table at this point.

"It's not their fault," I said which of course begs the question; whose fault is it then?  We all know the answer to that.  It's God's fault of course and this situation felt incredibly cruel.

I didn't want to do anything that would hurt the mom and son's experience and if we moved, while the reasoning would be obvious to us, just getting up and moving without explanation would seem offensive to them considering they were the only ones next to us.  I doubt it would have made much difference for me at that point.  I did everything I could to stop the train wreck of emotions from pouring out and Mark tried every subject imaginable but the fact remained that I was trapped right next to one of my heart's deepest desires never to occur again on this earth.  I listened to it all play out behind me as I remembered all the one on one time I spent with Samuel.  The never ending need for transfusions in the last ten months of his life kept us in the hospital together several days a week.  They took forever or so it seemed at the time but now looking back, I see how God used those transfusions to slow down time for us to be alone together longer.  RN's waited on us like the server in the restaurant waited on us.  All we had to do was sit there and enjoy ourselves playing games, reading books, coloring pictures or watching TV while they treated us like royalty.   I didn't think I took those times for granted because I well knew he was a special gift, but I did.  Transfusions felt like a curse, not a blessing and yet they provided hours of one on one time that I would never trade for anything now.   However, I can tell you this; it wasn't enough to cover this moment in time.  I wanted more and that is not to be.  It's a hideous feeling to suddenly surface again.  I thought it was mended better than that but apparently not. I reminded myself to be grateful for the time I had.  To be grateful that I knew enough to NOT take the time we had for granted and waste it.  Grateful that I experienced a love so pure and powerful that it could wring my heart out right in the middle of the Olive Garden.  It didn't feel like a gift at the time, but I know it is.  I wouldn't give that love up to spare myself the sorrow ever.  Mark and I both know that it was the suffering and physical circumstances that made Samuel into the amazing boy he was but it's not the sick looking kids that remind me of him, it's the well ones.  I don't think of him as being sick because his spirit never was.  Any boy in the age range of about 1-5ish;  I look at them to see if there are any pieces of Samuel in them.  I rarely see him but in this instance, I heard pieces of him through the little boy behind me.

"You're wrinkling your brow again, stop it!" Mark said threatening that he was going to kick me under the table.  I laughed a little but I couldn't stop the sorrow from heaping up.  I'd hear the boy, I'd look up at Mark for help and he'd say, "I know.  I know.  If I start crying, I'm afraid I'd never stop.  I know."

I wasn't hungry anymore but forced myself to eat the soup.  It was good but I just couldn't savor it.   The mom and son continued to visit; the mom made certain that everything was as perfect as it could be for him and it sounded so much like Samuel and I together that it made my heart bleed.

"The problem is, your hearing is way too good.  I can hardly hear them," Mark said.  Well I could hear them and I wondered if she knew how blessed she was but I figured she probably did or she wouldn't have went to all this effort and expense.  There was probably a reason she took this very young little boy out for a special night.  There was probably a reason he was so appreciative and well behaved too.   I can only imagine what it would be.  Hopefully not a reprieve from some dreaded illness in which he is lucky to be alive. 

Our food arrived and it was beautifully arranged but I just shoved it around the plate.   I had Mark take some of my food and ate what I could.  It was delicious to my mouth but my stomach just didn't want it.  I battled tears for the entire meal and every time a server showed up, I did my best to appear happy.  The experience made me wonder if, in the midst of simply enjoying life, or redeeming the time, we have ever made the people near us cry for what they could no longer experience.  Cry for something that in their opinion, was heaven on Earth all the while we were oblivious to their grief. 

The server offered dessert but as you might guess, we weren't staying any longer than necessary.  Mark pulled out the Red Lobster card saying that we should have gone there instead and that he knew I'd never want to come back to the Olive Garden because I'll never forget this experience.  We paid the bill and as I got up to leave, he told me, "Don't look at them."  But you know I did.  I had to.  They were sitting apart then, each on their own side of the two person booth.  The boy in his suit had ultra short hair, the way we kept Samuel's hair cut.  They didn't notice me looking, they were in their own land.  I turned and followed Mark back out through the maze that brought me into this mess.   By that point, the tears were pretty much wrung out.  I had very few left to shed.  We drove home in silence with exception to the very one-sided conversation I was having with God in my mind which was pretty much a "what was the point of that?" kind of conversation that He has yet to answer.

This I know.  I walked into that place with the intention of enjoying the meal in the place of those who either could not because of life's sorrows or would not because their hearts are hardened.  We sat next to a person who enjoyed that which we could not and I do not begrudge her that.  But while I walked into that place hurting for those who could not, or would not, I left hurting for myself and Mark most and my heart has been undone ever since.

Just some food for thought. Pun intended.

Ecclesiastes 7:1-4 NLT

 A good reputation is more valuable than costly perfume. And the day you die is better than the day you are born.  Better to spend your time at funerals than at parties.  After all, everyone dies—so the living should take this to heart. 

 Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us.  A wise person thinks a lot about death, while a fool thinks only about having a good time.

Ecc. 7:3-4 and 13-14  Message

 Crying is better than laughing.  It blotches the face but it scours the heart.   Sages invest themselves in hurt and grieving.  Fools waste their lives in fun and games.

Take a good look at God's work.   Who could simplify and reduce Creation's curves and angles to a plain straight line?   On a good day, enjoy yourself;   On a bad day, examine your conscience.  God arranges for both kinds of days   So that we won't take anything for granted