Before taking the books off of the shelves, I sit down on my slender mattress.  The evening sky, at least what I can see from my window, is a solemn-looking shade of gray.  In contrast to the vibrant green treetops, it brings a spirit of profundity and of peace over my second-floor apartment.  A fierce gust of wind sprints into, through, and out of my room.  I close my eyes, and for that brief moment, I am Pocahantas in “Colors of the Wind.”  I open my eyes and stare at the wall.  It stares back.  I reminisce on the events of the year.  If only walls could talk, this one would probably never stop.  There’s been so much that has happened this year, so much I will never be able to fully recount to another: in shedding the tears of my shattered heart, in feeling the side pains of my laughing fits, in moving forward through both the euphoric delight and wretched disquiet of my readjustment here and every other feeling in-between.

Nevertheless looking back and over this past season, I see all that I’ve lost, and it is nothing in comparison to what I have gained—the surmounting belief and understanding that He is God alone.

..and that He is mine, and I am His.

Wherefore in shock, disbelief, despair, frustration, hardship, heartbreak, healing, happiness, hope, rest, growth, thankfulness, and every other situation I may be catapulted into, I have learned these three things: to write it down, dance it out, and let it go—forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead.  For I run a different race.  I vie for an other-worldly prize.  Therefore, until I reach the finish line, I will continue to press on.

Our Heavenly Father: Let us see Thy glory, if it must be from the shelter of the cleft rock and from beneath the protection of Thy covering hand.  Whatever the cost to us in loss of friends or goods or length of days let us know Thee as Thou art, that we may adore Thee as we should.  Through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.  [-A.W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy, 68]

-Horatio Spafford, “It Is Well With My Soul”

Remember that one time, Daddy, just two years ago when I told you I was going to move to San Francisco, volunteer in New Orleans, live off-campus my senior year, visit Uncle Petz in Columbus, build houses in Mexico, graduate, and then move to New York?  Well,  I did.  

I’ve missed you so terribly much during all of this, but I’m okay.  I will be okay.  For at the risk of sounding arrogant, I’d say you and Mom have raised me well.  

“I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss.  Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends!”  –Lamentations 3: 21

The graduation ceremony never attended, the next-step decision never discussed, the cross-country adventure never shared, and the many other expectations never fulfilled–it’s okay.  You can cry.

Cry hard and fully and every time you feel like it.  Grief knows no timetable nor formula.  Just let it out, for tears are the heart’s attestation that he meant a lot to you, that he means a lot to you and that you love him.

Granted, I don’t know your situation fully, but I have been acquainted with grief in my own way, and I wanted to encourage you that the hurt won’t always suffocate so forcefully.  Things won’t always be like this.  They’ll be even better.  

You’ll be even better because to experience this kind of pain is to come face to face with the God who comforts with supernatural hugs, to nestle into His bosom and hear Him whisper, “It’s going to be okay.  I got you.”  And though going through this is never easy, easy was never part of the equation, for it too often gives way to a forgetfulness and forsaking of the One in whom we live and move and have our being.  That being the case, easy versus hard is not the issue at hand but rather if He is still worthy or not to be the subject of your song and the center of your being.

And He is.

He is so worthy, always has been and will be.

Now I don’t mean to make light of your grief.  I don’t mean to speak down to you but rather to come along side of you when you feel like you’re alone and go behind you when it seems you can’t go on anymore.

So to you, my friend and sister in Christ, keep walking–always forward, with your chin up and your spirit worshipping.  I promise you, it’s going to be worth it.  HE promises.  He’s got you, and He will be more than you need for this life and the next.

Be encouraged, love, and know that you and your family are being bathed in prayer.

She always was the adventurous type.

Gathering up the bottom hem, she bunched her loosely draped skirt so as not to get caught on any wayward branches.  Trampling over brittle twigs in her brown slouchy boots, she ventured deeper and deeper into the forrest as her house, her safety and security faded into the background.

“What will today’s adventure bring?” she thought, “A new type of flower?  A never before seen kind of butterfly?  A cookie factory run by elves in the trunk of a tree?”  All thoughts and possibilities fluttered about in her whimsical imagination just like the butterflies she fancied and hoped to see.

Farther inward she trekked through the unfamiliar, fueled by both the most intense eagerness and care.  She stopped.  She looked.  She listened.  The rustling leaves whispered sweet secrets to her as she took refreshment in their shadows.  She could feel it.  She was close.  She was onto something.

Then all of a sudden, there it was!  Right there!  A discovery far beyond anything she had ever known or could even begin to liken it to.  Something wildly beyond belief and yet there in front of her–her discovery.

And with it came the most spectacular high of beholding something so new and so astonishing and so wondrous and otherworldly, but also with it, the most maddening frustration that not a single soul would ever fully know exactly what she was seeing and experiencing, regardless of how articulate her descriptions or persistent her efforts were.

And though less from a voluntary spirit and more of an objective lack of other options, she cautiously placed the discovery into the basket of her mind and memoirs and continued on, every future find to follow in the same manner.

After all, this was her adventure.  Herein was being penned the story she would have to live with for the rest of her life. And with time pushing forward as a relentless beast, she had no choice but to proceed one step in front of the other–right, left, right, left, right, left–just her and her basket and a hope that one day someone might know and appreciate the contents inside.

“When you’re with someone else, you share each discovery, but when you are alone, you have to carry each experience with you like a secret, something you have to write on your heart, because there’s no other way to preserve it.”  [Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines 57]