His little onion

   fifteen years ago today, my mom was welcomed into the heavens by the hands of Jesus. her battle was over. her eternal life had begun. their was, in my heart, a relief of her ending pain and suffering. a rejoicing in her home going. i have been able to tell her story through my eyes, dry. "how strange that you can reflect with no tears." are words i have been told and have heard behind my back. strange. yes. no tears. no time. nope. their was high school to finish. then trade school, work, work, work, classes at the community college and more work, and more work, and more work. no time. nope. happy go lucky and too busy to cry. to think. to feel her loss. until suddenly, it all stopped.
  i was married, pregnant and sick. nauseous was an understatement. head in the toilet always. hormones at a maximum capacity of low. i was not glowing. i was not the jovial pregnant women who wanted to let every single stranger touch her growing belly, or answer the question "how far along are you?" while standing in line for groceries. often wordy. easily talkative. in my chest was the weight of the world and my throat held captive the words that i didn't even know existed. silence. nothing. 
   after having our first child, a boy, their was this sense of newness. beginnings. my chance to do this my way with the guidance of the Most High. that baby boy is what i poured myself into. then came pregnancy number two. the same thing happened. i was sick. nauseous was an understatement. head in the toilet always. hormones at a maximum capacity of low. i was not glowing. i was not jovial. i was worse this go round because i then had guilt for not being able to be the mommy to baby number one that i was used to being. the he was used to me being.
   she was born. very grey with a tight cord around her neck but she was would be fine. a girl. a beautiful girl. a chance to teach this wee one all the fun little lady like things that i had been taught by my mommy. again my world crumbled. another reminder of all that she isn't here to witness. isn't here to help me with. all the more that i will have to do alone.  still, i push on. no time for tears, i now have two babies to bringing up. my way, with the guidance of the Most High.
   He reminds me of my nick name. as a child my mommy called me her "little onion in the petunia patch". said ever-so endearingly, i thought nothing of it, until i was a teenager. i would then cringe at it's sound. her little onion? another, more beloved nickname, bestowed upon me by my mommy was gracie. i felt better about this one.
   her little onion. i've often given this nickname more thought as i have grown. i was, in fact, inconveniently born into a previously dissolving marriage, only days after my half brother was born to a women who was thought to be my moms best friend. now that is quite the onion in the petunia patch. i have no idea if one has any relationship to the other, but i've often wondered. that said,i never went with a lack of love, we were, in fact, the cuddliest of all families, professing our love for one another often. 
   her little onion. with all these layers of sadness, frustration, anger, loneliness. i am currently sitting in the hands of the Most High. Creator of all the is seen and unseen. i have decided to hand these layers to Him. one layer at a time. it is time. better late then never. i will let Him peel me. much like when i peel an onion, the tears will surely flow, though i know He will catch each and every one of them. examine them through and through and keep them in jars on the selves of His store house. He will peel me down to someone else. create me anew. "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" - 2 Corinthians 5:17 whatever will i be when He is through? i cannot even imagine. i know it will be good. better then what i have done with me. perhaps a little less pungent in smell? prayerfully, with the a sweeter fragrance? one that is sweet like His. so now, i am His little onion.