They especially have impact when an assumption is made or an expectation is in place.
The saying goes, when you assume, you make the first three letters of the word out of you and me.
And when expectations don't happen, there is a huge letdown.
But, what if your assumption and expectation was legitimate? What if you thought a + b = c?
Only then to find out, in this case, no, no it doesn't. And the pain hits like a sledgehammer.
And then that pain gives birth to a different type of pain which reminds you of the fear you've been suppressing which reminds you of the burden you're carrying which reminds you of the pain.
It's a cycle, a vicious one at that.
In the days that followed sending in the application for Jake's job, if I dwelt on it, really dwelt on the fact that if he was selected for the job, he would be gone, I felt as though the bottom of my world had fallen out.
I learned quickly to not even think on the next month or the next week or even the next day. Today was the day I was in and I would focus on that.
When I shared my feelings of despair with my sister in law, she so wisely stated, "Yes, this should be hard. The two of you are one. It is a separating of your union."
Yes, indeed, a tearing of sorts.
There are many times a day I have to remind myself to breathe. To stop, count ten seconds in and ten seconds out.
I will come home with the boys from being out and not realize I've been operating in high stress mode, near panic only to walk into what we know, what we've shared with Jake, and have comfort and peace wash over me.
As the boys started articulating their fears over bad things happening because their daddy is gone, I got to a place where I was frustrated and did not deal with them compassionately or gently.
Yes, their daddy is gone. Yes, it's for a long time. Yes, this is our reality right now, so can we move on please?
The Lord gently started revealing the anxiety I was walking in with my husband gone. He brought me to a place where I had to acknowledge that yes, I was scared. Yes, I didn't feel safe. Yes, my heart hurts.
And the boys needed to see it is ok. That they are not struggling alone and their fears are valid.
The other night, an expectation, a hope I had came crashing down.
An event, a very important one that is happening; an event that because of Jake's absence is going to be awkward, emotional and just plain difficult.
And now, because I made an assumption of certain roles and was kindly told "Nope" what would have been painful anyways has now been compounded with what feels like rejection.
Can I be honest? When those seven words popped up on my phone being preceded by a "try to make you feel better before I drop the bombshell", I felt dumbfounded and stupid.
The stupid that makes your heart hurt.
So, I've gone into protection mode. My protection mode is to retreat. To roll up into a ball.
I want to set my pride aside, I really do.
But in the midst of this pain, all the other pains that I have been dealing with superficially - going to church, prayer, loss of community, safety, leadership, large groups, having to tell someone my husband isn't here - have hit me like a ton of bricks.
Something so closely knit, the separation has been heavily felt.
Lamentations 3:21-28
But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
"The Lord is my portion," says my soul,
"therefore I will hope in him."
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.
