Of Shipwrecks and Waves


I know it has been a bad day when the Chardonnay has gone straight to my legs and the look from that sweet little kitty across the way has me in tears. Again.

Life is hard right now. I mean, like, kick your a** every day before you get out of bed kind of hard. Everyone is preparing for the holidays and, while I really want to as well, there is a larger part of me that sees the coming celebrations as a reminder of an empty chair, of a hand I don't get to hold during prayer, of a hug I don't get to have and a laugh I don't get to hear. Another gut punch.

The Rocket Scientist came home tonight and I crumbled, for what seems like the bazillionth time today. He said this is a hard season...and then he said, nope, it's not a season, it is our shipwreck at sea and we get a little wedge of splintered wood to float on - now we have to figure out navigation for the rest of our lives. It's not a season, this is our life now.

It sucks...and yet, here we are. Begging God every minute to take it away. Trusting that, while He didn't move the mountain like we wanted, and there seems to be so many more yet to climb, He will be faithful to keep His promise and redeem this horrid shipwreck. That when the wind is finish blowing the chaff away, what will be left, and seen, are good grain and fruitful seeds.

For now...we cry, and we drift, and we sit in the dark places waiting for another wave to knock the breath out of our lungs...again.

This is our grief. This is our journey.