"MY PEACE is the treasure of treasures: the pearl of great price. It is an exquisitely costly gift, both for the Giver and the receiver. I purchased this Peace for you with My blood. You receive this gift by trusting Me in the midst of life's storms...." ~ JC
The check list of 'firsts', the daily, sometimes hourly self reminders that I will survive this nightmare & find security in this new life I am having to learn to live marches onward. The first of many celebrations without her, the day that would have been moms 73rd Birthday, came & went with all its rightness...the best we could. I believe she would be humbled by the honoring of blues worn...her favorite color which always made her already bright & sparkly blue eyes even bluer! Gifting UK's 2MedICU that Sunday with birthday treats, thanking the oh so under appreciated nurses & staff who saved my mothers life & allowed mom to hug her grandchildren close a few more times. It takes such a special person to work the floor of the ICU, far more defeat than victory happens there yet they never cease the best possible care one could have, they press onward behind the walls of a building that houses a world of its own 24/7. Patient after patient, determined to make whole those precious lives, working hard to give them back to their families healed & headed home. With heavy hearts & flowing of tears it was heartbreaking yet comforting...feeling good with a mission to "gift" serve just as my mother would do, loving on those just as Christ loved us & gave himself for us...the gift was accomplished. Words were underlined in a book my mother gave me before her surgery,
"...life is a celebration to be cherished in every stage...Happiness is always true when we are adding to the happiness of others..."
The afternoon spent similar to that of last year, celebrating casually, grilling hamburgers & relishing the companionship & love of sport with those she loved so much. Doing the things she enjoyed...I am certain I will never be able to wrap my brain around her absence, the idea that I can no longer feel the warmth of her hand, the sound of her voice much less no longer get to share in the sequil of a tradition she set on my 30th birthday which we had long dreamt to relive for my upcoming my 40th next month...the pain unbearable...
"and now my life ebbs away; days of suffering grip me. Night pierces my bones; my gnawing pains never rest. In his great power God becomes like clothing to me; he binds me like the neck of my garment." Job 30:16-18. Comfort can be found in the Fatherly way He engulfs us, covering us like a garment like a picture fashioned in my mind of that of a child given way to exhaustion nestled in "dress up", in the innocence of her fathers dress shirt...the arms far too long, a shirt yet more like a dress in its largeness wrapping numerous times around her snugly, coating her small frame with security & peace..."Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love" Laminations 3:32
I reflect such a storyline, one altered by twists & turns, a roadmap of sorts, a path full of peeks n' valleys, that which make up the past 6 months & will surly pave the way, narrating the details of the future yet to come. So often unpredictable, reminiscent of the uncertainty of Mother Nature, reminiscent of the storms & tornadoes that blew in a few weeks ago reeking havoc on our homes & totaling cars...
My senses heightened to the parallel of that between a raging storm & that of the pain endured through such unexpected loss. Pain shows its ugly face in various ways...through the eyes of each, pain & loss look different...from death to divorce, financial strain, heartache & sickness...its presence so big, so overwhelming, so debilitating BUT is also incredibly necessary for enabling us to boldly be apart of the moving forward.
The sirens blared far longer than they ever have since moving into this house. So alarming, the debris flying by in its side ways dance, so effortlessly, traveling on the wings of such powerful winds. The sky could be mistaken for night fall that afternoon & the sound of softball size hail hitting the windows so hard making it difficult to differentiate the high pitch sounds of the warning sirens, both piercing your already ringing ears. I find a bit of humor nestled there in the Doppler Radar, the weather man giddy with excitement by each weather "game changer" that is thrown their way...in their seriousness they switch gears, urging the need to "get to your safe spot, you should be there now this storm is dangerous!!".
We can only do so much in preparation of the storm. We board up our houses, empty shelves of the local grocery stores...After all, there is nothing we can do about it, there is no way around it, so we get ready the best we can, we hunker down & we pray that the storm "will not be as bad as they say."
I am always so dumbfounded by the pretty day that we find following a storm. Blue sky's appear reviling all that is left behind like a child excited "mommy look what I did!"...the destruction & debris...broken limbs & fallen trees, rays of sunlight bouncing off raindrops left over on its damp leaves.
Personal tragedy so much like the behavior of the storm & the baggage that is left in its wake. We do our best to prepare for the loss of the people who mean so much, gearing up & ready to throw ourselves out there on the front line ready to endure a beating from all sides, knowing too well that faith above all is the only true shelter, the only true enabler for helping the weary fly head on into the eye of the storm...braving the core offers hope despite the size & ugliness, imprinting growth that better prepares us for the storms that lie ahead...dropping us to the ground as the winds begin to lessen,stronger for surviving yet forever changed in a way that only those who have walked those shoes can truly understand.
"I do not at all understand the mystery of grace ~ only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us". ~Annie Lamott
Just as the land needs mending from the broken after a storm, the heart so broken also in great need of having its wounds sutured & bandaged, protecting it from infection & further harm after being faced with the "see you soon" from the life in the flesh of a loved one you so desperately long to wrap your arms around.. You see, grief has its own kind of rubble, the mangled pieces that made your heart once whole, the light that made a beautiful day that much brighter, is now the unrecognizable wreckage left behind that must now be attended to, mended in order for true healing to set in. Initially it can present itself like the roaring of a freight train, quick in speed yet still, erie in its whorl wind sort of way leaving its path of destruction for those to clean up. The magnitude of the storm, the trash left behind for those to sift through dictates the time frame for which rebuilding will occur, how much time is necessary to allow for successful recovery...those present to lift up the laden, assist in the recovery must have perseverance & willingness to walk beside the hurting no matter the distance & understanding when surveying the damage with realistic measure of how big the task will be for getting things back the way you remembered before the day that your world was forever changed. "Faith includes noticing the mess, the emptiness and discomfort, and letting it be there until some light returns." Reality shows you that your eyes nor your heart will ever see what once was in the literal form, only remembrance of the tucked away memories are found & salvaged nestled safe & sound in the spaces of your mind & heart. So often the comfy of our homes are staged for the witnessing of the unmet thousands of miles away, families who's lives have been torn apart..,keeping abreast to the news of the search & recovery, holding on to the hope that the loss will be minimal & the life will be many. Over time the images dissolve & the world goes on to the next "breaking story" as if their agony is no more & life has simply fallen back into place in a timely fashion. The pain & grief of the suffer whose TRUE reality is just now setting in, far removed from the onset of the trauma, it comes on later when the dust had REALLY settled & the unaffected move on...the lonesome & lost aftermath so frighteningly raw & overwhelming, energy lacking like the hamster loosing steam on its wheel, we must fight another day no matter the cost & hold tight to the ones who stay the course long side you, to HE who will never leave you "People help you, or you help them, and when we offer or receive help, we take each other, and then we are saved." We give thanks for the reminders offered by our "first responders" our "never leavers" who have endurance, vision for the beauty that resides not in what can no longer be, but who offer hope in marrying the things of the past to the blessings God has to offer in our future. God long ago planned out our paths & their crossings, the impact each encounter offers our lives & the lives of those around us...strength for which He has instilled in us from the torrential downpours that have been survived so that we are learned enough to be not only first responders to others in need but also long hallers in the impending storms that are sure to come.
What a blessing are those He has sent to do the suturing, wound tending of the flesh so torn from hazardous debris, mending the bruised from a battle well fought. "He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds" Psalm 147:3
Just as He offers a fresh new day, Greif will run its course & will leave strength and wisdom in its wake. Writings of grief & loss won't always cover these pages yet lessons found not only in the loss of my mother BUT in also in the many blessings she left behind.
In closing I would like to share one of the many special conversations Brooke & I have shared about mom, her processing so amazing at the age of 6! I ran to my paper to wright it down as fast as I could for fear I'd forget! While working in Brooke's room she abruptly stops and says "look mom it's Gand!!!!" Pointing to a lamp lit with no shade. Confused yet curious, hopeful there's been some sort of miracle and mom would be standing there I said, "what? where? In the lamp?" She said in a "well duh" tone, " right there mom, in the lightbulb...(I looked at her lost so she continued) don't you see? Gand is in the sun! The bulb gives light like the sun and light comes from God & Jesus who made the sun. Gand is with God & Jesus so the sun is in her...she's in your room too!
"It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine." Eeyore
In HIM,
Sarah
