I know some of you automatically thought, “yeah – a post on chocolate”. Not today. Sorry.
Yesterday Mark and I and a bunch of friends went to a baby shower for a close friend who just lost her father. It was the most beautiful of days. Low humidity, lots of sun and a gentle breeze. Mitchy got showered with lots of beautiful handmade gifts as well as the necessary goodies that will make life so much easier in the coming months. It was like a reunion for lots of us who are close in heart but rarely are in the same location. The shower was followed by a cookout on a big country estate right by a river. We ate beautifully charred brats and burgers, walked the land, enjoyed each other. We made a campfire and kept warm outside after the stars made their appearance.
We watched a slideshow about Mitchy’s dad and we cried. Some people didn’t seem really affected, I suppose because they didn’t know him. (And for some reason, it feels awkward to cry about a loss that you aren’t connected to by blood or personal kinship.) But I cried. And I’d only met him a few times. There’s something that happens to my heart when people who are loved and respected are remembered and honored. It always makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode. I had to leave the crowd of people and sit looking at the river for a while after watching the video. I felt inspired to tell God that I still trusted Him and I listed off all the things I love that I proceeded to give to Him. I know it’s quoted a lot, but I still love the line in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis that says, “He’s not safe, but he’s good”. That feels so true about God. He’s made no promise to me that Mark will live longer than me, or that my family will be on earth as long as I’d like. I don’t know that I’ll always have fingers to play the piano or a voice to sing or even my mind to think clearly with. But He does promise me that He’ll make EVERYthing into a beautifully woven story that tells something and is something beautiful. And He will always be with me and He will always be enough. It’s easier to say when it’s not my father or husband that I’m mourning. But I consider this training. I’m building a history of trust with my God. And when it comes time, I hope I can still say, “I hurt, but I trust you”.
Thank you Mitchy and Nancy for sharing your grief with me and allowing my heart to expand with it. I hope it can comfort and cover your hearts, too.