I carried it with me today.
It's an ache... absence... exhaustion. I think maybe no one notices.
And what I carry makes me think that maybe - just maybe - there are others like me who are missing someone they loved, someone who loved them.
The world didn't stop to acknowledge death, any more than the world stopped to celebrate birth. A time to be born, a time to die.
Don't get me wrong. I am grateful that he did not have one more hospital visit or a difficult choice (hospice)? I'm thankful that he is with those he loved and those who loved him, and that he's gone ahead to heaven. It's just a little while in eternal terms before I'll see him again. But I miss him. My daddy. My dad.
So when this person is cranky with me or this person seems not to be listening, maybe I'll pause to wonder if that person is missing someone, too.
The beautiful gift in my sadness is this - perhaps my word for 2014 is filled. Perhaps the God of hope will fill me with all joy and peace as I trust in Him.
Perhaps the fruit of trust is being filled.
Filled.
With God Himself.
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