This has been an emotionally tough year. Lots of reasons. But most of them don't center around me. The tough times have centered most recently around those I love. And watching it and feeling it is so hard.
Almost three weeks ago, a dear friend of M's went hiking with two friends in Switzerland. He separated from them because he wanted to keep going, went off a beaten path, and fell. He was killed. He was 20.
This friend of M's was a believer. He's in heaven, rejoicing with Jesus. Rejoicing with his nephew who died three years ago of brain cancer. I am close with this boy's sister. I've seen his face in her family pictures for years. His sister is my age and we thought it was so funny that her brother was my daughter's age.
This boy spent the summer with M in Spain and I am so grateful that she knew him.
I have watched them both cry tears of pain and I've cried with them. I read a post yesterday by a mom who lost her baby and how she grieves and recoveres. It seems so appropriate:
"While the agony of missing my son throbs in my mind and my body, while I carry it every moment like a lead weight inside my chest, I still taste the goodness in my life, and am glad of it. But nothing is pure anymore; the bitter and the sweet are entangled forever. I am two people now: one mourns and the other takes the steps that make up life, and sometimes they regard each other with an aching bewilderment. And when the question comes—“How are you?”—they look at each other helplessly, wondering who should answer."
I have felt glimmers of that in my life. Life's bitter moments have led to rejoicing in God's goodness (after some wrestling with Him) but you feel like the bitter is still there, with the sweet. It makes us long for Heaven more, I think, the older we get. And sometimes, those that are really special get to go and be with Jesus even sooner.
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