I don't expect you to accept this or understand or agree with me; I just have a need to be honest about it. Our faith isn't about how righteous we are; it's about being broken enough to say, "I need you." and then being open enough to accept what He gives.
Heaven is enough even though it doesn't take away today's pain. God's grace covers me in my doubt, in my anger, in my self-pity. God's grace reminds me that I want to be worthy of a life well-lived and the unconditional love Easter represents. In that moment and subsequent ones, I realized I do recognize the strength I need to choose joy abundantly even if I can't choose it today or this month or even this year. It's there beneath the surface. I will use it some day.
The daffodils bloomed. After months of standing as green stunted shafts, they shot up and are dancing or fighting the relentless Oklahoma wind. They bend and sway with each gust and then retaliate by standing after the winds of today have subsided.
Warm January Saturdays called them to rise too early, and the snow and ice in March, I thought, would threaten their ability to bloom. It did not. Somehow from deep within the core of the bulb, the flower reserved some warmth and found the strength to bloom and continues to draw upon that strength to withstand the brutal and beautiful force of Spring.
Our beautiful baby girl's funeral was on a Friday, and the words I wrote for Tom read in part, "We are Easter people."
We are - even if life is brutal without our girl.
Easter reminds us that the joy of eternity will last longer than the pain we have now. It doesn't take away the pain- it just reminds us of a promise. That promise lies in the core of my heart even if the edges lay tattered.
You need to know that there are days when I do not know how the Red Bud trees can bloom, how your child can smile, or how the sun can rise. To me, the world lost some of its richest colors the day Taylor left this earth, and I feel like daring nature to make me adore its beauty. The beauty and vibrance of spring hurts, brutally - because to me, she was all things light, colorful, and full of beauty. Ironically, the fact that the Red Buds do pop purple; your child does light up my Facebook with cherub grins, and the sunrise does magnificently light this world every morning illustrates the promise in the quote at the top of this post, "I will never forget you." God will never forget us- there are beautiful and brutal reminders everyday and in Easter.
I understand more intimately now why one of my favorite authors, Glennon Melton Doyle, writes that life is "brutiful". I loved the word when I read - but understand it in the core of my being now. Melton says some days are brutal, and some days are beautiful. Somedays are brutally beautiful and others are beautifully brutal. And I get that.
,,,the beauty of a life well lived and the brutality of that life being cut short...
In all of this, I have to choose joy - until then, I am not forgotten.