Tuesday, November 4, 2014
I was in a mood this morning. Bitter, resentful, and just sad. I was feeling victimized, as I have had to deal with some consequences of someone else's bad decisions. I picked up my Bible and didn't even know what I was looking for. I didn't necessarily want to be comforted, or even reassured that it would be okay. I flipped open to random page in Daniel and read this (Chapter 12): "At that time Michael (the archangel), the great prince who protects your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress such as has not happened from the beginning of nations until then, But at that time your people - everyone whose name is found written in the book - will be delivered. Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake; some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt. Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever." I stopped. Stopped reading and stopped my little pity party. God had renewed my sense of self -- it's not about me. This life is so short and I don't want to spend it wallowing in feeling sorry for myself. I want to rejoice in His love and grace and share that with everyone I come into contact with. I can't do that if I'm focusing on myself and whining about things I can't change. I love the song "Fix My Eyes" by King and Country... this line is just what I need repeating in my head: The things of Earth are dimming In the light of Your glory and grace. I'll set my sights upon Heaven, I'm fixing my eyes on you.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
I miss my mama. Every day, my heart feels the brokenness of her death and then I feel the joy, leaping up, so full I think I will burst, of knowing she is with her Savior and nothing else matters. I realized something today, as I was reading a story about Brittany Maynard and an open letter to her from a favorite blogger of mine . I was given an incredible gift: to experience grieving my mother's death WITH my mother while she was dying. It's a common refrain from those who are left to deal with unexpected deaths: I wish I had one more day. Well, I did get another day. 23 of them, to be exact, 23 days between confirmation and my mama's passing. What a gift. Reading these two women's stories and seeing the different ways that they are dealing with their impending deaths made me realize that the scariness of death and pain is nothing compared to giving those you love one more day by your side. I think my mother was brave, but I think she would disagree. I never saw a hint of fear - she knew where she was going and couldn't wait to see her Jesus - but I think she would say that she was just following the natural end of a fatal disease. To me, choosing to accept that end and all the unknowns that come along with it IS brave. And letting us walk the painful journey with her was a blessing that I am thankful for every day. My mama loved me with her whole heart for her whole life, and that didn't change at the end. She chose to let us grieve alongside her and to suffer through the pain, knowing what was on the other side. I am so thankful.