Ferris Wheel

Ferris wheels are just about my least favorite rides…ever.  For whatever reason, I have this irrational fear that at any point I’m going to plummet to my death.  Until I started looking at how much a simple ferris wheel represents life.  Relationships.  I look at these rides differently now, and they’ve become this wonderful analogy for me and my group of friends.

I’ve always been pretty easy-going.  Up for whatever.  Flexible.  Accommodating.  Along for the ride (no pun intended).  When we were at rock bottom, I had nothing to give.

I was a horrible friend.  Horrible sister.  Horrible wife…aunt…niece…cousin…should I continue?  I was this empty shell.  A hollow representation of my former self.  Unsure if hollow was going to be the new me, because I honestly didn’t think I would ever recover.  Ever.

I was that bottom chair on the ferris wheel.  The lowest of low.

While the rest of the world slept peacefully at night, I would have nightmares.  Dreams about our last hours with Owen.  Things I couldn’t unsee.  Things I will never be able to unsee.  So paralyzing that I couldn’t fall asleep unless Johnny was in the room.

I couldn’t be alone.

It took me almost 8 months after Owen passed until I was able to take a solo car ride longer than 20 minutes.  Why?  Because you are completely alone in the car.  Nothing to distract you.  No one sitting next to you.  I had no idea that would be an area I’d struggle with…but it was.  A simple car ride can be a crippling venture when you’re hurting that much.

I had a few of my girlfriends over a few weeks ago for a Saturday morning breakfast.  Just a low-key visit since we hadn’t seen one of our dearest friends in a while.  To say she’s had a rough couple of months would be a major understatement.  Her heart is hurting and ours is hurting with her.  Powerless to take her pain away.  Powerless to change her circumstances and heal it all.

That morning, I was completely caught off guard.  I saw myself.  For the first time since we lost Owen, I felt like I was looking at my reflection from when we were walking through the hardest time in our lives.

The doorbell rang and the person I let into my house was a shell of her former self.  She was there in body but only a glimmer of the woman I knew before these last few months took their toll.

She reminded me so much of myself.  How sometimes showing up was all I had to give.  Functioning in everyday life was so difficult.  You can’t escape from the pain you are carrying around EVERY second of EVERY day.  I knew a simple hug hello would never be big enough or long enough to make a difference.

Our circumstances aren’t the same, but a lot of the emotions are.  She openly shared the deepest parts of her pain, and I saw myself in so much more than the reflection of her face.  I began to see myself in the reflection of her heart.

As she shared about how hard it is to be alone in the car… I started crying.  There’s no way…no WAY she could have known that.  I had no idea that would be an area anyone else might struggle with.

Hearing her story, I related to her so much.  I’ve been there.  I’ve been there at a time where I didn’t understand God.  Where I felt cheated.  Like He was being a faithful God to everyone else in the world…and He was forgetting about me.  Everyone else’s prayers were being answered and I was questioning if there was even any point to praying at all.

God was the only one who could take away my pain after we buried Owen.  He was also the one who hurt me the most.  It was such a raw, real time in my life.

I knew I was going to make it out.  God was and will forever be all I ever need in this life.  I knew my faith would be stronger and I would have a closer relationship with Christ than before.  But it was just going to take a while.

In the meantime, it was completely and TOTALLY acceptable to feel what I was feeling.  Question what I was questioning.  My life was being shaken up.  Snow globe style.  The mess was going to settle.  The foundation would be firmer than it was.  Struck down but not destroyed.  I wasn’t turning my back on Him.  I wasn’t going anywhere.

Neither is my friend.

But, you can’t ignore those human emotions that need sorted out.  Weeded out.  Dealt with and then packed up and sent away.  You can’t ignore…but, you can’t hold onto them, either.  That transformation can ONLY come with the healing and you can’t force the progress.

When you’re in that bottom chair, you have nothing to give…and you begin to see the true character of those around you.  I saw the Givers rise up and the Takers step back.  Some relationships became stronger.  Others grew weaker.

There are going to be times in your life where you are in that low chair.  Where you are going to be struggling through a crippling situation and you are going to fail others.   You’re not going to be this fun, happy person people used to know.

You’re going to be that shell and you’re going to hate every minute of it.

Some will have compassion, understanding and grace.  Knowing that this is simply a season in your life.  It will pass.  It is not how you want it to be.  You would change it if you could.  They will choose to walk through it WITH you.  Not expecting you to meet their relationship needs.

Others may not be that understanding.  They don’t like the way your current mood or phase of healing affects them.  It spills into their world and they don’t like it.  They may not understand.  They may misinterpret you or take things personally.

Don’t hold it against them.  Let it sharpen you…let it be a reminder of what you will do differently.  You’ve BEEN on the bottom.  Maybe you’re even still there.  It’s fresh in your mind and you know just what it feels like.  Others?  Maybe it’s been a while and they’ve forgotten how debilitating it is in that bottom chair.

But, I have good news for you.  I’m here to tell you that the ferris wheel is going to move.  Slowly.  Before you know it, one day you’re going to wake up and you won’t be at the bottom anymore.  You’re going to begin to feel a weight lifted as you move closer to the top.  Hearing shouts of encouragement from those riders at the crest.

Take a ferris wheel “check.”  Be aware of where you are on that ride.  Have patience for those who may be below you and be encouraged by those above you.  Most importantly, remember how you felt on the bottom.  Be a “Giver” in those times when others have nothing to give.

As much as you might not want to think about it?  It’s coming.  Your turn at the bottom could be just around the corner.  Soon, you’re going to need the love and support of those in your life that are higher up on the ride.

My friend was one of my Gap Girls.  Interceding for me when I was hurting so deep I just couldn’t pray.  She prayed for me.  With me.  When I was a hollow shell, she gave me grace.  When I failed as a friend, she still stood by my side.  Now, it’s my chance to do the same for her.

It’s my turn to leave her voicemails that may never get returned.  Texts that will not get a response.  Sweet notes in the mail just to say, “Hey…I haven’t forgotten.”  One-sided communication as I do everything I can to encourage her, pray for her, and BE THERE for her when I know she has NOTHING to give me right now.

THAT is how we are called to live.  THAT is what life is all about.  We are called to be “Givers.”  Expecting nothing in return.  Waiting patiently for our time at the top of the ferris wheel, and using our time at the bottom to become better people than we were before.

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Click here for the very beginning of our 8 year journey through life, loss and our unexpected struggle with secondary infertility.  Starting with what we shared at our 3-week-old son’s funeral.