Last night, I had a little time to waste. (OK, I DIDN'T have a little time to waste, but I took it anyway.) I was working on some piano studio stuff on the computer, and I clicked over to my blog, wondering if the weather was as yucky last year as it has been this year. (The answer to that is yes, it was terrible.) I got caught up in looking at my spring pictures-of-the-day, and felt very nostalgic. It seemed like a long long time ago that Ben turned three, Kate turned seven, we had snow in April, then in May (oh wait, that was this year, too), that I began to find the beauty in my new life and stop trying to live in the past. My words sounded sweet to me, hopeful, peaceful.
I sat for a while, thinking that the spring of 2010 seemed honey-colored in retrospect, and I yearned for that sweetness, wondering why it felt so far away.
And then I remembered. I REMEMBERED. How could I have forgotten??? How could I have forgotten for even those few minutes? That spring WAS sweet, despite its chill. It was blessed and holy and sacred. Only a week into June, our world would shatter into a million pieces, and looking back, I think the Lord was giving all of us a gift of peace before the tragedy.
It's been quite a year, hasn't it? I have a tendency to try to gather my life into neat little categories, to create stories with beginnings, middle & endings out of the ins and outs of daily happenings. I'd like to say I understand what God's been doing with us, that I see the end from the beginning, but I don't. I know less than I did a year ago, but I also know more. I trust more, but expect things to work out as I expect less. I feel more fragile, but also stronger. I have felt immense pain and immense peace. I have been carefully held in the palm of His hand, and also cast out into the deep water alone.
But mostly, I feel grateful. We are surrounded by beauty and love and goodness. We are all capable of doing hard things. We can hang on through the darkness and wait for the light to shine. It does shine, eventually.
7 comments:
"I'd like to say I understand what God's been doing with us, that I see the end from the beginning, but I don't." A confession of your faith. I feel this way too sometimes Kerri. I love that you remembered the peace before the sorrow. You have had quite a year and I'm wishing you a warm summer, full of goodness and joy. xo
I'll be thinking of you and your family. I love your ending words. We are surrounded by beauty. Thanks for the reminder.
Ah...such a beautiful reflection and so true. I do wish that none of us had to do the hard things. But how blessed you are to be able to find the light from the darkness. Thank you for sharing, I needed this today.
Just beautiful, Kerri.
This is so true, no matter the trial. God does know what he's doing, even though we rarely get it right away, or ever.
Hugs to you. I can't imagine having to go through this particular trial.
You brought me to tears with that entry. Everything you said is so true. The idea that we may not understand what's going on but we persevere, is something I've grappled with so much in the past seven years. One of the stories that has always given me hope and faith that there is a plan is the story of Lehi's family and their travels to the promised land. I try to put myself in Sariah's shoes...she didn't know it would "work out." She didn't know why the Lord was leading them on this journey (and asking her sons to travel back multiple times). But she acted on faith, and, it turns out, there was a plan. I know the Lord has plans for us, and I know you know that too - thanks for sharing such a touching reflection on life.
I've been thinking about him lately. We watched some home videos last night when we were at Legoland last summer. There's some video my kids on a ride - seconds later my phone rang and I heard the news. I can't imagine what a hard year it has been for you and your family. I'm learning that you never really forget, you never really get over it. As life moves on, and you get busy, those moments of remembrance, those pangs of pain become less frequent, but they do not go away. And that's hard.
Post a Comment