When tragedy fell on my family, I doubted more than anything else that I would ever be happy again on earth. In those days, the darkness was so dense that even the brightest truths couldn’t cut through the heaviness in my heart. I truly did not expect to experience belly-laughing good times ever again. I assumed I would taste joy, because of the hope of Heaven after this world, and I predicted that someday I would smile at lovely memories. I did expect to see some kind of light at the end of this tunnel. But happiness? Not likely. Not in this lifetime. Until bright spots started breaking through the cracks of my brokenness.
Jesus is my Wonderful Counselor and Mighty God. He is an Everlasting Father to me and to my children. He is the Prince of Peace. Because of these things, I know that He is good, and I can trust His government & direction for my steps. (Isaiah 9:6). I am so very thankful that Jesus came unto me, that He came Unto Us.
Lately I’ve been learning that some memories and traditions, like friends, are silver and others are gold. It is important to make new ones, but to also keep the old. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been going with my family to get the Christmas tree. Last year I began a new tradition of staying home to reflect on the previous year and prepare for the next. (Part 1)
On this second Thanksgiving since the passing of my husband, I want to publicly honor his memory by publishing this letter to him. The time we had together was a treasure from God, and I’m grateful to Eric for the ways that he honored that gift, lived life to the fullest, and loved us so well.
I struggle with a quick-fused temper that sometimes spews onto the people I love most in this world. From talking with other moms, I’ve learned that I am not the only one that yells in anger say her kids. This is a very difficult thing for me to admit because it is so contrary to who I want to be as a mother. It hurts my heart more than almost anything else to see my beloved boys in pain, and there just aren’t words to describe the kind of regret I feel when I know that I am the cause of that hurt. It’s also hard to admit because I haven’t found a fix-all solution; this is not a past-tense issue. I haven’t tied this up and thrown it behind me; there’s no pretty bow.
Grief has given me an acute awareness of the brevity of earthly life. Because of that knowledge, I try to treasure each moment and each relationship just a little more. The dark side of this reality is that I also face daily this feeling of dread, that the ones I love are not safe from death.