“Grief does not change you… it reveals you.” – John Green

Blessed. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over. Double portion.

My walls are closing in on me. I resent the 5^th sink-full of dishes I’ve washed. I loathe the 4^th load of washing I’ve done in this 5kg washing machine. The fridge is a step up from a bar fridge. I’m paying someone else’s mortgage for the 4^th year. The door is still leaking. I’m on maternity leave. We’re living off one income. Sydney prices are exorbitant. We are still the lucky ones. We have all we need. We are blessed. We don’t have a loan, but I have a resolve. I start packing.

We have nowhere to move, but I start wrapping the fragiles and stacking packed boxes. I refuse to accept this lot any longer. Do people think I’ve gone mad? I live in a half packed house for the next 2 months.

It’s January 29^th 2014. It’s my 27^th birthday when we receive the paperwork; “Congratulations on the approval of your loan”. The events leading to this moment don’t seem real. The sun was really shining down on us. Within the week, we make a low, affordable offer. It’s a house we’re driven past multiple times a day for the last 5 years.

They accept it.

Within a few weeks, we’re sitting in our new home. For the first time in 5 years I stack the dishes into our dishwasher. Heavenly dry hands! Our new washing machine can hold an entire weeks worth of clothes in one load. Oh em gee. We have a glorious fridge that holds a whole weeks worth of groceries plus more. We really are the lucky ones. We have all we need. We are blessed.

I tell God to go “stick it”.

Reflecting on the last 12 months, I’d been blessed with a permanent position at work, the safe arrival of Little One, and our very own home with all the extra luxuries making my day-to-day life easier. I find myself again in a war of gratitude and resentment. It’s comfortable… but I know that I would give it all back just to feel normal again.  Never trust your tongue when your heart is bitter. I plea: “You can take it all back. I don’t need Your sympathy. I don’t need Your blessing. I don’t need You to try and make up for what You did to us. We cannot be ‘bought’ over.” I scream in His face as He embraces me like a tired child, violently swinging, desperately reaching for the people we once were. As He holds my arms back, He whispers, “Let them go.”

I just can’t do it yet.

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” – Winnie the Pooh