Packed up the car today and headed out with boxes and newspapers, ready to pack. A little too far down the road, I sighed as I remembered my tin of
Comfort and Joy (not an affiliate link), a mug, a spoon, and a jar of thick honey that sat on the counter where I left them. They were to be a comforting afternoon pick-me-up after a full day. On, on.
We drove through old towns and the kids commented on the seasonal decorations.
"I wonder if they do anything for Christmas?" Erin asked.
"I guess we'll see," I replied.
I drove on through autumnal vistas, rolling hills, wide-open skies all around. This new-to-me, now familiar commute.
Last year, dare I even whisper, everything was perfect. We were all at home. I had a great grasp on our plans. There was a peace and a pace that was soothing, nurturing, embracing. We had lovely Fridays with Linda. Time seemed abundant. We released butterflies, took art, did hikes. There was piano and math and middle school literature. I photographed friends' families, managed my home, and had such a delightful pace. And all of that seemed perfect. Plans for knitting groups and friends over. Mugs readied for hot chocolates. Flowers in a vase at the table. And the last Thanksgiving? Yeah, the turkey was dry. But everything else? Perfect--and not the food, but the atmosphere.
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| a splash of cream looked like a heart, and I smiled |
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| missing sweet Linda |
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| this photo speaks so much to me |
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| The last time we were all together. I'm glad it was a good last. |
Then everything changed.
***
There was a guy who worked at the wine store, and when I'd ask how he was doing, he'd say in a voice I wasn't sure was sincere or sarcastic, "I'm living the life!"
It always made me smile, regardless.
***
My mother-in-law died in November last year. Two months later, my dad died. At that same time, Linda became very ill, and we have been unable to see her since. Almost two months later, my sister became very ill. Nothing is the same. I walked numb through funerals, hospitals, finances, decisions. Cried too hard, too often.
I felt crushing emotions I hadn't felt in years, magnified by losses and responsibilities so personal. I looked back at the goodness and beauty of last year and thought, "I was living the life." And true, it was wonderful. All of it. Thank you, God, for memories that shine golden.
Today, I packed and sorted and scheduled. Today when I thought of my tea mug at home to be a welcome when I entered in, instead of fuel for the journey, I realized this: I'm still living the life.
This hard year that has felt suffocating and crippling at times has also been the deepest, richest, truest test. And days I feel unqualified, I remember the training times before this--the hard of packing up hopes and dreams--alone, with two littles under foot; uncertainties of where the future would lead; times where the bottom felt like it dropped out; or when evil arose from the least expected places--I finished anyway, by God's grace. It wasn't always pretty. (Honestly, it was never pretty, the hard stuff.)
As hard as it was, as hard as it is, it's for the better, by God's grace. I don't feel like the same person I was a year ago.
And in a lot of ways, I'm glad.
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| celebrating my sister's birthday |
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| celebrating my birthday with her |
Thank you, God, for this life you planned for me. Help me to live it well.
