"resurrection means the worst thing is never the last thing." beuchner
that is it. that is truth. there is hope. we go on. we get up and breathe and make coffee and bathe. we work and laugh and take out trash and share our stories. we remember and we cry but our smiles can still be as big and our lives can still be as full as before that day, whatever day it was, when the world as we knew it, fell apart. when the worst thing that can happen, happened to us, whatever that was.
i even have proof.
yesterday was the birthday party for our friend precious. she turned nine and it was her first birthday without her brother timothy. it was one of the first times i've been back to their home since he died. at home. in his moms bed. the first time my kids had been back to sit on that bed since losing their friend. it was hard and sad and beautiful and heartbreaking and wonderful and just as it should have been- all those things at once- because that is what life is- all those things at once.
i think it was in december last year when i began to disappear. to feel the weight of loss and suffering and my real inability to do much about most of it. timothy died. a few days later, lilian's baby was born- hope, promise, beginnings- a few days later he died too. two funerals in one week. two coffins that shouldn't be that small. two women who shouldn't have lost their babes. there was darkness. i felt it. and there was light too and there was lamentations 3:21-22 and underneath there were the everlasting arms. but i was sitting on the outside of the circle of that given grace- that promised real palpable grace that comes only when really needed and only to those really in the need. it wasn't my boy who died. it wasn't my child i buried- i was on the edge, feeling the ripples of it.
but something inside of me shrunk- something began to fade away. something became a bit lost- i know this because i became quiet in my writing words. yet the grace comes in other ways too for other people who might not be so close, but still get burned by the fires in each others lives. it takes time and process, and there was grace in yesterdays party. grace in seeing the goings on. grace in eating cake together and juice and chapatis. grace in the sun being out- grace in gathering with no tears- grace in singing happy birthday and many more. grace in the community- that we were there- that we were not consumed.
this is beatrice and lilian yesterday at the party. they are whole. they still smile and cry - but they are ok. the worst wasn't the last.
this is precious- see she is precious :) her smile is real. her joy is there. as tim would want.
this is jude at the party- my second born- my story of sitting in the center of the storm of grace- he just turned nine like precious.
this is the house where we sat 6 months ago and cried over tim's body, and couldn't imagine eating cake and celebrating- but.
but the worst thing is never the last thing.
even when we feel it really will be the last of us. even when we can't imagine another step. even when we don't want to get up the next morning- or we get up and forget for one moment what it was we cried ourselves to sleep over- only to then remember. even then.
it's never the last.
the grace comes as remembering this- the moments when we see someone smiling big again, despite. the grace is given when we can pick up our pens or our paintbrushes or the phone, and we can slowly return to who we once were, except maybe even bigger, or wiser, or better. when after a while- transformation comes- and from that- a new wholeness. so let us remember.
that is it. that is truth. there is hope. we go on. we get up and breathe and make coffee and bathe. we work and laugh and take out trash and share our stories. we remember and we cry but our smiles can still be as big and our lives can still be as full as before that day, whatever day it was, when the world as we knew it, fell apart. when the worst thing that can happen, happened to us, whatever that was.
i even have proof.
yesterday was the birthday party for our friend precious. she turned nine and it was her first birthday without her brother timothy. it was one of the first times i've been back to their home since he died. at home. in his moms bed. the first time my kids had been back to sit on that bed since losing their friend. it was hard and sad and beautiful and heartbreaking and wonderful and just as it should have been- all those things at once- because that is what life is- all those things at once.
i think it was in december last year when i began to disappear. to feel the weight of loss and suffering and my real inability to do much about most of it. timothy died. a few days later, lilian's baby was born- hope, promise, beginnings- a few days later he died too. two funerals in one week. two coffins that shouldn't be that small. two women who shouldn't have lost their babes. there was darkness. i felt it. and there was light too and there was lamentations 3:21-22 and underneath there were the everlasting arms. but i was sitting on the outside of the circle of that given grace- that promised real palpable grace that comes only when really needed and only to those really in the need. it wasn't my boy who died. it wasn't my child i buried- i was on the edge, feeling the ripples of it.
but something inside of me shrunk- something began to fade away. something became a bit lost- i know this because i became quiet in my writing words. yet the grace comes in other ways too for other people who might not be so close, but still get burned by the fires in each others lives. it takes time and process, and there was grace in yesterdays party. grace in seeing the goings on. grace in eating cake together and juice and chapatis. grace in the sun being out- grace in gathering with no tears- grace in singing happy birthday and many more. grace in the community- that we were there- that we were not consumed.
this is beatrice and lilian yesterday at the party. they are whole. they still smile and cry - but they are ok. the worst wasn't the last.
this is precious- see she is precious :) her smile is real. her joy is there. as tim would want.
this is jude at the party- my second born- my story of sitting in the center of the storm of grace- he just turned nine like precious.
this is the house where we sat 6 months ago and cried over tim's body, and couldn't imagine eating cake and celebrating- but.
but the worst thing is never the last thing.
even when we feel it really will be the last of us. even when we can't imagine another step. even when we don't want to get up the next morning- or we get up and forget for one moment what it was we cried ourselves to sleep over- only to then remember. even then.
it's never the last.
the grace comes as remembering this- the moments when we see someone smiling big again, despite. the grace is given when we can pick up our pens or our paintbrushes or the phone, and we can slowly return to who we once were, except maybe even bigger, or wiser, or better. when after a while- transformation comes- and from that- a new wholeness. so let us remember.
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