The day itself came and went with preparation for weeks of being gone, the transition away from home. I flew the same route they had taken. It crossed my mind that I was glad it was a different time of the day than they flew. Not sure why that suddenly seemed significant to me.
No way to know what to expect as time goes by. It just seems like it’s been forever. I feel more settled in this new normal than I would have thought I would at this point. I’ve stopped trying to figure out how it all works and I walk.
I just said to someone yesterday that maybe I’m starting to find the occasional solid bit of ground under my feet. I was surprised to hear myself say it. That’s new.
I’m sitting in another airplane now headed to Colorado for the time Scott and I were going to have attending a conference in Fort Collins. There are things I’m looking forward to and the anticipation of being washed over with overwhelming emotions at times. I wonder what my capacity to engage will look like. The only thing to do is take it one moment at a time. It’s really the only thing to ever do, but sometimes I get ahead of myself.
I feel privileged to be the one who got to love Scott and Kaitlyn and Zach as wife and mom. That’s my special spot for each of them and each grief journey is as unique as the relationship I mourn.
I feel amazed at the fact that I see life ahead. I see glimmers of beauty in the midst of the ashes. Is it a backstage pass or a front row, VIP seat to God’s amazing grace? I feel ushered into a very intimate place. I relish the moments I spend in the arms of Jesus. He loves me best. He lets me see His heart for me.
I somehow find that Psalm 16 resonates with me and I marvel. “The Lord is my chosen portion and my strength. You hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Indeed I have a beautiful inheritance.” How? How does that not seem to only apply to someone else? I have nothing to point to in myself. It isn’t because I’m “doing this well”. But I do run often to Jesus’s side to unload, to listen, to hand Him the troubles of the moment. It’s what I’ve been doing for years in, what I now feel like was small measure, and now get to receive lavishly.
It seems pain is somehow connected to the capacity to press in. At least it has been for me. Desperation perhaps. It’s doing its job. I long for more. And the treasure is endless.