Comfort
Out of the blue they came today, tears that I wasn't expecting. I had just sat down to start working on charts and I glanced over and saw our beautiful children's faces beaming with giggles in a photo from December. We were at a family photo shoot to capture holiday pictures for our Christmas card. And while some photo shoots can be stressful or merely painted smiles on crabby hearts, we had a fabulous time that day. We were laughing and enjoying each other. It was the beginning of our favorite time of the year, and despite cold Montana winter temperatures, we were radiant.
And one may ask, "What about seeing your joyful family made you cry?" A very valid question. But it wasn't their faces or joy that made me cry. It was how that day felt, and how today doesn't feel that made me cry. That day was effervescent. We had plans for fun in the weeks ahead. We were not in any pain. We didn't have to think about how our bodies would hold up to a car ride, or day at work, or how many trips we would have to take to specialists. I didn't have memories of terror filled screams or how it felt when I couldn't expand my chest fully, or what my love looked like after having skidded along the dark asphalt in the cold and damp night. I could only imagine what it felt like to lose one of our children or each other. We were living in peaceful circumstances.
We weren't perfect. Far from it. In fact in that season, I was suffering with a lot of self doubt and insecurities. But our tactile senses were all filled with good things. Kit and I had just gotten back from a second honeymoon in Hawaii, and we felt so at ease with each other...we could predict each other's emotions and thoughts based on years of learned patterns and behaviors. We felt challenged to work on our life, to continue to grow, but in that day, at that photo shoot, we were carefree.
And as I looked at Kit in those photos, he looked whole and complete, and so very happy. No scars were on his head. Smile lines that I knew and scattered gray hairs just made him look more comfortable to me. And I was smiling. Not a painted on smile, that day my heart was light and airy and the love of my family surrounding me made me glow.
And the more I looked at those photos, the more the tears fell. Because today, in this season which is hard, and challenging and painful, but also beautiful and raw and real, I felt the loss of the way it felt to be carefree. I felt grief over the months of long nights with fervent prayers pleading for the life of my husband as he had repeated surgeries and pneumonia and a blood clot. I felt grief over the months of pain our sweet daughter has suffered, the withdrawal from her friends and activities she enjoys, her isolation at a time in life that should be involved and fun. I wept, and do now as I write, over the waters we have been treading in emotional trauma. I wept over how it felt to think that I was a widow and without my child.
And I wept because I lack the ability to have complete eternal perspective. God was with us on that day in our photo shoot, He was with us in our peril, He is with us now, and He is already in the future waiting for us when this season of healing is done. I know that my comfort should come from his presence, and not my circumstances. And while I know that, my heart feels sad at the losses that we have had, and the loss of our circumstantial comfort. I know that I look back at that day, at those pictures, and idealize them, because my current circumstances are painful. I know that I need to look fully into the face of the One who saved me, and be at peace, because even now in my brokenness He is here to give me joy and comfort.
It is here, in this difficult season, in my brokenness, that God has been the most real to me. He has shown me truth that I wasn't able to see before. He has ministered to each wound and heartache and tear with gentle care. He has been faithful, and I believe that He has delighted in showing us His loving kindness and at our acceptance of those gifts. And juxtaposed to our pain, has been joy, that has been from a deep place, from Him. And I have hope that we will find carefree moments in our future. And there will be more joy filled photos and fun photo shoots.
Paradoxically, in some ways, I am more confident and comfortable and filled with peace today than I was in the early Advent season. I am absolutely convinced that God does miracles and never leaves us. I am comfortable in my skin...He created me for the very moment that I am in, and has prepared me for all that we are going to face. I have peace knowing that even in this season, He is here, and loves us completely. I would have said all those same things in December, but I feel them and have experienced them in a whole new way today.
So my tears surprised me today. My grief has days which are harder than others. But my hope is secure, and tomorrow is going to be a beautiful day, just like today was. And as an added bonus to delight my heart, I came home tonight from Bible study wowed by the sunset, and blown away by joy as we had a front yard dance party with our babies. It was a carefree breath of giant, fresh, God loving air.
And one may ask, "What about seeing your joyful family made you cry?" A very valid question. But it wasn't their faces or joy that made me cry. It was how that day felt, and how today doesn't feel that made me cry. That day was effervescent. We had plans for fun in the weeks ahead. We were not in any pain. We didn't have to think about how our bodies would hold up to a car ride, or day at work, or how many trips we would have to take to specialists. I didn't have memories of terror filled screams or how it felt when I couldn't expand my chest fully, or what my love looked like after having skidded along the dark asphalt in the cold and damp night. I could only imagine what it felt like to lose one of our children or each other. We were living in peaceful circumstances.
We weren't perfect. Far from it. In fact in that season, I was suffering with a lot of self doubt and insecurities. But our tactile senses were all filled with good things. Kit and I had just gotten back from a second honeymoon in Hawaii, and we felt so at ease with each other...we could predict each other's emotions and thoughts based on years of learned patterns and behaviors. We felt challenged to work on our life, to continue to grow, but in that day, at that photo shoot, we were carefree.
And as I looked at Kit in those photos, he looked whole and complete, and so very happy. No scars were on his head. Smile lines that I knew and scattered gray hairs just made him look more comfortable to me. And I was smiling. Not a painted on smile, that day my heart was light and airy and the love of my family surrounding me made me glow.
And the more I looked at those photos, the more the tears fell. Because today, in this season which is hard, and challenging and painful, but also beautiful and raw and real, I felt the loss of the way it felt to be carefree. I felt grief over the months of long nights with fervent prayers pleading for the life of my husband as he had repeated surgeries and pneumonia and a blood clot. I felt grief over the months of pain our sweet daughter has suffered, the withdrawal from her friends and activities she enjoys, her isolation at a time in life that should be involved and fun. I wept, and do now as I write, over the waters we have been treading in emotional trauma. I wept over how it felt to think that I was a widow and without my child.
And I wept because I lack the ability to have complete eternal perspective. God was with us on that day in our photo shoot, He was with us in our peril, He is with us now, and He is already in the future waiting for us when this season of healing is done. I know that my comfort should come from his presence, and not my circumstances. And while I know that, my heart feels sad at the losses that we have had, and the loss of our circumstantial comfort. I know that I look back at that day, at those pictures, and idealize them, because my current circumstances are painful. I know that I need to look fully into the face of the One who saved me, and be at peace, because even now in my brokenness He is here to give me joy and comfort.
It is here, in this difficult season, in my brokenness, that God has been the most real to me. He has shown me truth that I wasn't able to see before. He has ministered to each wound and heartache and tear with gentle care. He has been faithful, and I believe that He has delighted in showing us His loving kindness and at our acceptance of those gifts. And juxtaposed to our pain, has been joy, that has been from a deep place, from Him. And I have hope that we will find carefree moments in our future. And there will be more joy filled photos and fun photo shoots.
Paradoxically, in some ways, I am more confident and comfortable and filled with peace today than I was in the early Advent season. I am absolutely convinced that God does miracles and never leaves us. I am comfortable in my skin...He created me for the very moment that I am in, and has prepared me for all that we are going to face. I have peace knowing that even in this season, He is here, and loves us completely. I would have said all those same things in December, but I feel them and have experienced them in a whole new way today.
So my tears surprised me today. My grief has days which are harder than others. But my hope is secure, and tomorrow is going to be a beautiful day, just like today was. And as an added bonus to delight my heart, I came home tonight from Bible study wowed by the sunset, and blown away by joy as we had a front yard dance party with our babies. It was a carefree breath of giant, fresh, God loving air.
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