February in Kansas

The cold wind whipped my dress around my knees. There weren’t enough chairs in the tent for everyone. I hugged my sister closer, trying to block the gusts and to remind her she wasn’t alone. I didn’t have to see her face to know that tears were making tracks through her foundation. My throat constricted as the tears that had threatened to spill over all morning finally broke through and I closed my eyes in one final protest. She squeezed my hand. The sniffs and sobs around me further confirmed that we weren’t alone. Yet it’s all too easy to feel incredibly alone in a crowd.

We stood in a grassy field. My heels were sinking into the soft ground, as if trying to drag me down into the despair that grief can so easily bring. The reality of the situation was no longer escapable. There was a hole in the ground, black as my dress, and someone I loved dearly would be placed in it. I opened my eyes and looked around. It was a beautiful day, for February in Kansas. Standing on the hill you could see all around for miles. Snowy white, cotton ball clouds sailed across a sea of blue. I hadn’t seen blue sky for weeks. These sights, which usually filled my soul and lifted my spirits, were wasted on my broken heart.

Pastor’s words were a drone in the background. I can’t tell you what they were exactly, but they were beautiful words, full of hope and life. I shut my eyes and let the words fall, willing them to penetrate the dark corners of my aching heart. I wanted to feel the rejoicing of an eternity begun. The joy of long-awaited reunions. The relief of suffering ended.

Pastor was praying. I bowed my head, but my heart cried out.

And then, the sun burst through the clouds, just for a minute. Like a Kansas sunflower I turned my face towards it, relishing the momentary warmth that washed over me. As soon as it had come, it was gone. Pastor’s prayer had ended. But I was changed. I knew there was rejoicing in eternity. I knew there was overflowing joy and songs of praise. I knew that dancing had replaced suffering.

And my soul would sing again. 

How Are You?

How are you?

How many times a day are we asked this question? It's part of our social norm; you cross paths with someone and ask how they are. It's not a bad thing, but I think we've asked it so much that the question has lost its meaning. We ask and expect the typical answer, "I'm good! How are you?" How often do we ask this question when we actually mean it? 

Lately, it has gotten very difficult for me to answer this question. I don't know how I am. But it breaks social protocol to actually be honest about how I'm doing. Most times, people ask because it's what we're supposed to do, not because they want to know. And while I don't want to be a debby-downer and drag everyone down with me, I would much rather be honest about how I'm feeling.

My heart is breaking. I am worn down. One minute I feel like a chicken running around with its head cut off, and the next I feel I can't take another step through the sludge of this messy life.

I am witnessing someone in my life go through pain that no one should have to bear. My mom, the woman who has been there for me and held me when I am in pain, is now the one hurting, and there's nothing I can do about it.

My Granny is living her final days on this earth. Her body has worn out. I so desperately want her to go home to be in the presence of our Heavenly Father and my Grandad, to not suffer anymore. But I am not ready to say goodbye.

This is not a "woe-is-me" post. This is me being honest about how I'm doing. I don't want to forget that there are people who are suffering much more than I am. I have so much to be thankful for.

My mom's white blood cell counts have finally shown up and are increasing. My sister and I got to visit her for a couple of hours this weekend.

My Granny loves the Lord, and I know I'll see her again. I know she's ready to see my Grandad again, to bask in the warmth of the presence of our God and sing and dance for him.

I have a family and support system that is strong and steady.

I have a Heavenly Father who is my strong fortress and my shelter. I can live each day knowing that when my heart is heavy, when I don't want to take another step, he is my source of strength.