The Sunday where everything else made a difference

This morning I woke, feeling really uncertain. Today was the day I had planned to attend church service. The first, since losing Faith. I woke earlier than planned, before my alarm clock rang. As I went about the house preparing my son's things for the day, I felt very uncertain and felt really uncomfortable. In my mind, there was only one question - Am I really ready to face everyone and talk about what happened? I really didn't know, but I didn't give myself any choice. I occupied my thoughts with preparing for the day and forced myself to take that decisive step out of the house. Thankfully we had my sis-in-law to pick us up, else I think I would have backed out at the last minute and suggested just going somewhere for breakfast instead. Somewhere where people didn't know us, and we were just as common as any other family out for Sunday brunch. Having her pick us up, I was not given the luxury of choice (which was good for me).

We reached church just as the worship began. The ushers were still welcoming people at the doors. I inadvertently slowed my steps when we approached the doors. An usher came forward and shook our hands. Another pastor saw us and approached us. Thankfully he did not say anything, but just smiled and patted ET on the shoulder.

As we made our way to our seats, I felt really self-conscious and I kept thinking that everyone's eyes were on us. I kept my eyes down to the ground. All throughout worship, I was glad to be back but at the same time, I was fighting back tears that were threatening to pour. My son's whining and antics helped a lot.

After worship, there was a short period of time where people were encouraged to come forward to testify. I made up my mind, and I went. I felt so brave and so ready.

The second I was out in front of the congregation, and the mic was in my hands, I wavered. So actually I was not as ready as I believed myself to be. Oh God! Give me strength! A few seconds later, I was ready to talk.

It was short, but I managed to keep my wits about me. When it was finally over, I breathed out a sigh of relief and kept my eyes downcast while I made my way back to my seat. Getting to my seat was the best feeling I had.

BUT, after finally getting it all out and explaining to the church (or those who were really curious) about what happened to Faith, I felt so much lighter. It was only after that, I realised that I was ready. It just took that one step of faith, to trust that He would hold me up, when I needed to face everyone.

After service, there were no throngs questioning us about how or why. Instead, everyone went about their businesses like it was any normal Sunday. Our pastor came and said he was glad that we came forward to tell the congregation about our situation, since everyone had been covering us in prayers. He suggested a mini "memorial" (I don't have the right word for it, but it's very similar in essence) for Faith in order for us as parents to have some sort of closure to this matter. We agreed immediately - not that we wanted our daughter out of our minds nor mention her anymore, but we did (or rather I did) need some closure.

I realised I was getting obsessed with grieving, to the extent that I was neglecting friends and getting very severe mood swings. I could go from laughing one minute, and immediately be angry and frustrated with my husband and son the next.

Getting everything out - was the best thing that happened to me. Getting out in front of everyone and telling them about my daughter - made a difference in my life.