Our days are filled with everything under the sun. A busy 2-year-old. A constant job search. A broken wrist for Jason. Painting & repairing our home in order to list it for sale. Never-ending paperwork and "business" to take care of as we navigate the waters of unemployment and rearranging our lives. A pregnancy that's already resulted in three trips to the hospital with complications. Sickness, infection, and exhaustion. Soul exhaustion.
These things, these events, keep my body busy and my mind distracted. Yet, the grief of losing my brother still hangs over us like a heavy cloud that doesn't plan on disintegrating anytime soon. The busyness of our life is, frankly, overwhelming. I spend my days thinking about what everyone around me needs, and I'm getting pretty bad at taking care of myself.
As is common for me, I have a song on my mind. This time it's "Waking Life" by Schuyler Fisk. It's a song that I randomly stumbled upon, having never heard of the artist before. The chorus reads as follows:"I'm not lost, just looking for footprints. I'm taking it one step at a time, and I'm getting by. But by the way, it's you on my mind. It's you on my mind."
Sometimes, I feel as if I'm on the brink of being lost, but my Savior keeps me hanging on. I have to take it all a step at a time; I can't handle anything more. I can't help but look for those footprints, though: evidence that I'm still walking, still breathing. And my footprints are not alone. I remember walking on the beach with Jason and Cale in December, only two weeks after losing my brother. I remember looking at our footprints in the sand and just taking in the three different sets: the footprints that are walking the same journey as I am. At the thought of those footprints, I am entrenched with thankfulness of my husband and our precious son. Sadly, in the same breath, I am reminded so quickly that they could be taken so suddenly, and I can't do anything to protect them. The fears plague my dreams; the weight of the reality of my forever-altered family tortures my days.
Try as I may, there is no making sense of this. The road we walk in faith is more littered with obstacles than ever before as we seek to understand with our human emotions the whys of life. So, I am left with a choice. I can turn and walk away and choose to muddle through the pain and tears alone, or I can cling to the One who has promised that it makes sense to Him. I can give the enemy the satisfaction of watching me walk in fear, or I can crawl and struggle, but lean into the One who will one day take all of my fears away. I've given up on pretending to be happy, but I can honestly say that God still protects the joy that deeply resides in my heart. Sure, it's a little buried right now, but it's still there. He is my joy, and He cannot be taken away. He's the only one, but I have that promise.
And so, we take it a day at a time, and we're getting by. But, Ryan, you're still on my mind. I'm still heartbroken that I couldn't tell you "I love you" one more time. I don't think that's going to change until I see you again, but see you again I will. Until then, baby brother, we know you're in Perfect hands, and for that we are thankful.
