This week started with me thinking about school. For the last 3 years I have been getting a classroom ready. One more reason I feel different and out-of-place. My thoughts have been on missing that routine, the fresh start of a new school year...and all the distractions back to school brings.
I miss it.
Along with so much more.
So it was good that there was also Support Group on Monday. I needed to talk. It was the first one at the hospital where I was for so many weeks. Where all the drama happened. And there was a special person there at group that brought such a flood of memories.
The nurse who was with us that entire Saturday night.
The nurse that witnessed the hardest thing Tim and I have ever had to do. We had to hand our beautiful baby over to her at the end of that night. She was the last person I saw holding him. And giving Will to her and knowing that we would never see him again was...I honestly have no words.
How do you actually make yourself do that? And then walk away? Getting myself to do it was nearly impossible. And then there was Tim. He was not ready to let go of his son. I couldn't watch it. It was just too painful.
But seeing her again was not painful. In fact, when we hugged I felt like she was an old friend, and I felt closer to Will...and that was such a blessing.
Because she knew him...and met him,
and not many people got that chance.
So even though I didn't get to talk much, or say what I needed to say at group, seeing her again was worth the trip there. Because there were moments when I wanted to scream at a particular person something I use to tell my students, "God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason...You are supposed to listen at LEAST twice as much as you should talk."
Then I found out she was a teacher. Seriously? Go figure :) Anyways, I go to group to be able to talk and get stuff out, not be interrupted a million times.
So to keep from leaving on a frustrated note, I stopped upstairs to my old stomping grounds. It was so nice to see some of the nurses that took such good care of us and laugh at some of the odd and goofy stuff that happened while we waited for Will.
And then I heard the comment again: "You should write a book."
Okay. So this is an easy thing to laugh off...even when tons of people have said something of the sorts to me. I never seriously considered putting this whole journey, all the funny and tragic moments, into a story. Then my thoughts go to, okay I actually write this book and then what? I don't have a clue about how to even begin searching on how to publish it. And then today I walked past a little sign that had hung in my classroom all last year, but this morning it just struck me:
When I stand before God at the end of my life I would hope that I would have not a single bit of talent left and could say, "I used everything you gave me." Erma Bombeck
It made me feel guilty. Then even more pushing. I feel as if God is saying, "Still not convinced, Julie?" Just now I take a break from writing this blog to check my email and find an email from amazon.com and what is the only thing it is advertising to me?
The Writer Magazine.
And on the cover?
Self Publishing and everything you need to know.
I couldn't make this stuff up. Seriously... I'm not that creative.