Another confessional of sorts.   I’ve spent the last few weeks redecorating my house. It was the worst possible time frame in which to do. It was the last week of class which meant I would have more homework, a huge final to do then homework to do for a new class.   On top of this my mom was coming to visit so any project I started had to have a set deadline, which further motivated the insanity!  Add to that we decided to do tailgate type Halloween event with friends 
and I didn’t want the house looking crazy in case anyone came in for anything!!   Can you see how I was a tad irrational in my choice to not only redecorate, but to paint 4 rooms in the house, within 2 weeks, several major events, all because it would seem to some my mom was coming to town?  It was a great cover story.   What started as my trying to convince Dean to patch a few drywall spots turned into, well now we must paint over them and do we have that color left, blah blah blah blah……and then mostly on my own for the first week, I painted my stress out, or into more stress.
I knew I had deadlines, more than just company coming, but classes with homework due. I had life to live, I should have been sleeping, at least some! But there was something deeper beneath my motivation, and it wasn’t until late on Halloween did it even make any sense that maybe it wasn’t even all about my own needs but others as well.
A week before Halloween, our small group sat in this very room, although it looked a lot different.  
Had you looked at that wall that evening as we discussed our Halloween plans, to hang out as friends, with neighbors and build community, you would see a small reminder of someone who was not in our house any longer.  After Faisal left, the wall decals in his room were moved to this living room. I couldn’t part with them, but I couldn’t physically go into his room without getting ill so I knew I had to do what I could to change that room. Caleb now sleeps there and I wanted to feel like I could enter my sons room and feel comfortable.   Yet I couldn’t get rid of one of the very last reminders in our house of Faisal.
I also know that I haven’t felt safe or even normal in my own home since early September.   I don’t have a choice about my house, and in fact I loved my house before and I will love it again. Being a stay at home mom, I am here more than not.   I had to make the best of a bad situation.  I haven’t been able to sit in our dining room and eat dinner with our family in at least a month, mostly because it feels like something is missing.  It also brings back too many memories.  The kids are used to it. It makes Dean angry. Only I knew why it was happening, some of it is the fatigue of my other health conditions, most of it was because of him.
The last two weeks I’ve taken steps to reclaim my home. To make it a place where I feel safe, comfortable and where I can enjoy spending time with my family.  A place where I can sit and do homework and not have depressing thoughts of him, or the event or how bad life is right now weighing on me, but instead I can feel comfortable and focus on the task at hand.   It was a crazy week or two, and I know I was slightly irrational about it, but I know God was at work in the simple brush strokes.
The kitchen got painted first, the room I spend most of my time “doing life.” 
Either alone or with my family, baking, talking, dancing to songs on the radio or just doing silly crafts.  I did the dining room second; I miss eating dinner with my family.  Several times I would walk into the living room and look at the walls, and those stupid decals and not be able to do anything. I’d walk right back out again.  Unable to focus.  He seemed to have that affect on me, still.  Finally, one afternoon while the kids were at school, I slowly and reluctantly sat on the floor and looked up at the wall.  Remembering what a good friend had said weeks ago in passing, maybe not even realizing his words of wisdom at the time, “whatever it takes for you to process.” (thanks Andy!) 
It had been those words, that led me to this day.   I knew then that he was right.   That it’s been weeks of processing, all coming to this moment.  The first few reminded me of being afraid to pull off a band aid, but eventually I ripped them off, quicker and quicker until I realized how glad I was that I was one step closer to letting go.   I wasn’t able to paint that wall for another hour, just because I had to face the facts that I was finally saying goodbye.
Eventually the walls were done, and I was so proud of myself.  For pulling off the band aids, and letting myself feel the pain.  I hadn’t let myself for a few weeks, and I had started to not be able to function because my body was rejecting the internal pain caused by holding it all inside.     On Halloween morning, a friend stopped by and I knew then that a harder conversation was due to come that would dredge up more emotions about this situ
ation with Faisal.  What I didn’t know then, was that had I not just days earlier gone through the process of taking down the last visual reminders as you entered our house of him, and even painted almost the entire first floor, this friend may not have made it past the front hallway let alone stayed for hours later to have a much needed conversation.   God works in mysterious ways.  What to Dean seemed irrational and even at times dumb, was to me all part of my healing process and though she may not know until now, was God’s way of telling all of us He is in the details of it all.
A lot of what was taken from me during my hurtful experience in September, has been re-gifted to me. My home is once again warm
and comforting to me, not only because of the paint on the walls, but because of the friends I’ve let in despite the vulnerability that used to keep my pain hidden. My quiet place of prayer had been violated as that’s where the incident occurred. But recently I had a brilliant encounter there that I can’t even re-tell without doubting it myself, and now I’m almost afraid to go there because of how humbled I feel in God’s presence.
Needless to say, while I am glad the house was in great shape for my mom and her new husband’s first visit to Ohio (who dey!) I know that most of the painting and work was done to help make my home feel more welcome for those of us who have felt like it just wasn’t the same anymore and in an attempt to help us all feel a little more at home.  Through the process though, I know I learned that all I needed to do was open up my heart to my friends in honesty instead of trying to paint over the scars on the walls.     Brad, a fellow blogger and VCC’er, recently shared this on his blog and I know I found it especially helpful as I have had to deal with unmasking my vulnerability during this time of hurt in our lives so that I could ask my friends, all of you to stand beside me, and if I hadn’t, I know my life would truly not be worth living.   Thank you all for being there for me as I seek to work through this process and for being patient with me.  Your love and support has been a blessing!!
