The Deepest Pain

Every now and then, you read some divine blog post, or see a Facebook status update that hits home and really humbles you. We've all been there - lost in our own seeming despair, thinking things couldn't possibly be any worse and then you're hit with the reality that there are people around you with sorrows much larger and you stop and almost punch yourself in the face for being so naive and selfish. That was me, today. Even now, hours later, I've got a lump in my throat and blurred vision as I listen to music and pour my feelings out on to this blank canvas.

I once knew a girl. Have a photo of her at one of my childhood birthday parties. We grew up in a small town together, so it isn't too hard to keep tabs on the basics. A couple of years ago her oldest little boy was diagnosed with a terminal illness. An illness I didn't quite know anything about. Heck, I hadn't ever even heard of it! But when I read her news, I googled and stared in disbelief at the things they'd all endure together over the coming years. I knew I'd never know the full weight, but my heart hurt for her nonetheless. 

Mind you, we're not besties. We've grown into two women who are friends on Facebook but we don't get together, our children don't play... We simply just keep in touch. However, she is a mother as I am a mother... There are days I whine about how complicated my kids can be and how they devour my patience and I wanna ring their scrawny necks and I can't wait for school to start!!! And then there are days like today when I read what feels like the first real post of hers that showed any type of personal emotion... a crack in her armor where her light seeped out and I caught a glimpse of her unimaginable courage mixed with the deepest of sorrows and I'm still struggling to make sense of it all. If I had a superpower, it would be to heal the children. His innocence alone doesn't deserve the weight he has to bear.

I shared her post with another friend whose son was born with a condition that she was unaware of while pregnant. She shared his diagnosis with me early on, and I'd like to think that I held her hand, virtually, from her early stages of becoming a mother learning to deal with this obstacle in her life. What a blessing her little boy is, and I'm so SO overwhelmed with joy that what she, at one time, thought was the end of the world - has finally figured out that it was just the beginning of an entirely different world and that it wasn't bad! Distance has prevented me from meeting any of her four children since they've been born, but social media has allowed me to follow her journey.... from our time overseas together when she was but a newlywed, to the momma of four that she is today. 

I also learned of another mother whose soul is bared to Christ as she watches her child fight cancer... All I can do here is ask for a prayer or two for her because I won't reveal who she is or the trials she's faced in life because she's a strong, brave, personal warrior with deep pains that she carries with class, and elegance. 

"Often, it's the deepest pain that empowers you to grow into your highest self."

For those mothers who will never see a cure... for those mothers who will never stop fighting... I pray your faith never waivers, I pray your miracle comes in the way that it is meant... and I pray that you all know that you're loved, and thought about, and supported, and not alone. Know that your story inspires others, and your strength is a glorious example that we should all strive to emulate.

  

Hiraeth

Tonight, I took a drive with my daughter. It’s not the first time we’ve taken a drive together… but it’s the first time I felt “it.” We recently discovered the most amazing spot to watch the sun set. Last weekend, we went to this spot but it wasn’t a spectacular sunset because there were no clouds in the sky. So we sat there, in silence, watching that fiery ball disappear behind the hills far off in the distance. The wind blew through the open windows of the car and I felt a bit of a lump in my throat because we were experiencing an end together. We stayed there and watched until the last sliver of the sun was gone. We stayed until the clouds turned from orange, to yellow, to gray… and then we came home.

Tonight, though… tonight there were clouds in the sky. We gobbled half our dinner and rushed to the car and raced to the spot so we wouldn’t be late watching the sun turn the clouds those fiery pink colors that we so enjoy… We opened up YouTube and we looked for music to set the mood and we rode in silence with only the music playing between us. I looked over and I watched her as she watched the trees pass and she looked out at the sky and in that moment, I was happy.

We got to the spot just as the sun hit the tops of the hills. Rain was falling far in the distance and a blurry rainbow appeared. We sat in silence, still… the wind rushing through our open windows again  on the top of the world and we simply… were.

When the sun had set, I asked my daughter if she wanted to go home, or if she wanted to take the long way. She left the decision to me, so I chose the long way. Normally, she’s one to want the windows up because the wind blows her hair all over the place. Tonight, I smiled from the inside as she rolled her window all the way down and took her hair out of her ponytail and let the wind destroy it. Mostly, I just watched her…. And I remembered.

I remembered being her age… I remembered sitting in the passenger seat as my father took me on sunset drives. I remembered the windows down and my hair blowing all around my face. I remembered the vivid, dying daylight colors and the deer on the side of country roads and the cooling temperatures as day faded into night…. And I prayed… I prayed that my daughter was committing to memory these small, but large memories that brand the heart, so that someday, when I’m gone…. she will have these moments of hiraeth that will feed her soul.