Little Lion

It all adds up to a day like today. Sitting in an extremely uncomfortable office chair, hunching over a laptop, eating Hot Tamales, and reading things that make me cry. It's as if I'm addicted to the tears, and yet somehow immune to them. They surface and slide down my cheeks and splash on the desk in front of me, but their meaning gets lost somewhere along the way. The intent behind the sorrow loses it's poignancy and I'm somehow left void of any sense of their purpose. There are days like today where I wonder what I'm waiting for. What's holding me back, keeping me down, telling me to stop? Sometimes I think the Lord does that, and sometimes I think I do that. I go back to the familiar because it's familiar, but it's a cold comfort and even a little evil in it's familiarity. I'm trying to be happy for those who are seeing their dreams come to life, because it's good to be happy for those things. But I also feel sad for myself. Yes people....

(This is not a pretty entry, but I felt it was time to finally share it. For a long time after my Edy died, I felt ashamed of the relief I felt. I felt ashamed that I didn't want to kiss her head because she was no longer alive. I felt like a complete failure as a mother, that I didn't deserve her and losing her was my punishment for being such a failure. God has walked Dustin and I through so much healing since then, He has amazed me with His faithfulness to restore, encourage, and heal all that has felt so very, very broken since losing our baby girl. There is still not a day that goes by that I don't think about her or miss her, but the grief no longer haunts me. I see how, in the hands of our very loving Father, the shadows of grief are dispelled and grief no longer becomes a fearful thing. Not quite friend, but no longer an enemy. Only God can turn our sorrow into joy, and that joy is so deep it becomes a cornerstone. It is no fleeting feeling, but a river of str...