My Journey: Jeanetta's Perspective

I have enjoyed reading through my siblings' stories of how Allison affected them. Mom's story of Allison is a great story of healing, but as the "gracious gift" it always pains me to read. Seeing your mother, the one who never gets sick or hurt, in pain is incredibly difficult. The little girl in me, even as an adult, wants to jump up and down waving my arms saying "wait, don't cry. I'm coming. I'm only a few months away. I can't replace her but I promise to give you joy again."

I, unlike any of the other Bennett children, have had a very unique perspective of my mom's journey, because I felt it, too. I have always been an extremely passionate person and often times find myself taking on the pain, joy or anger of those closest to me. I remember the first time I ever heard the recording of my parents sharing their Allison experience to our church community. I was in college, driving back to school after visiting my parents. I completely lost myself in my mothers words. I cried when she cried and could feel her pain. I haven't been able to read through her recent blogs without crying with her again.

My mom and I have always had a unique relationship. even though we have very opposite personalities. She is a sweet, gentle, soft-spoken, woman whom I have never seen raise her voice. [Mom interrupts to say that she's just forgotten all the times I raised my voice to her, or she just remembers hers being so loud that mine didn't seem like much in comparison. I tease her that she's been in my face since she was two!] I'm not even sure I've ever seen her get angry, unless it was at the computer. Growing up I was loud, obstinate, pushed all the limits set before me and loved life. As I read through mom's poem, or prayer, it's almost as if God put in me all those emotions my mom was never able to voice. It has taken me a long time into my adult life to learn to control these emotions and use them as a gift to bless others instead of just being an emotional mess.

The other thing that is unique with my story of Allison is I knew the end of the story from the beginning. Knowing the end of the story changes how you read it. It's like Easter, I love Easter. I look forward to celebrating Christ's resurrection because I know that it is coming. I know that Christ is Risen. I get to rejoice and celebrate because I know the end of the story. Ash Wednesday is a sobering day but, I know that Easter is coming. I respect and mourn the sacrifice that He died, but I know he rises. If I were Mary and my son died, I'm sure that's all I could see. The pain and grief would be so strong that it would feel like the end. How could there be anything past death?

There are few of us that get to see or be the "gracious gift." To be allowed to be a part of God's story is a honor like no other. It is a constant reminder, in the midst of turmoil, that Jesus is Lord and is the Writer of the story, even if we can't see the ending.