This time last year, I had a difficult time processing all the emotions I know are sitting under the surface. It had only been a year, yet it was shocking to me that a year had already passed. A year since I cried out so deeply for my mom's healing, only to know that it was her time to go. Most of the time it felt like nothing had happened at all, but then when the emotions did come, they felt like an assault on my entire being. I still find myself at times caught off guard at how painful, even physically, the process of grief is. I have known sadness and loss before, but this strikes deeper. And here I am, another year later, still processing. I have closed myself behind my door because it is what I know how to do best. The pain washes over me like a wave. Part of me is torn. I need to process this, and yet, it seems easier to distract myself so that the pain can go away. It never really does...it lingers and then assaults me when it seems most unwelcome. So, I sit in my room, trying to let the emotions of the moment release. Tomorrow is her birthday. And three weeks from now, it will be two years from the day I watched her go.
A dear friend reminded me of the footprints poem and how it talks about the times the man looked back and only saw one set of footprints. It was during those times that he had suffered the most. Jesus reminded him that it was in those times that he carried the man. It is in moments like these, when I need to be comforted but do not know how to be, that I feel Him lift me off my feet and carry me for a while. And because of that, even though I have no idea what I am doing, I know I will be okay.
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