Through It All

 The passing of time can be strange. How, on one hand, it feels like Brendan died yesterday. When I remember, which happens over and over and over again each day, I find it hard to believe that he has been gone for over a month. On the other hand, when I sit here thinking about all the "firsts" that have taken place, it doesn't seem possible that he's only been gone for just over a month. So many firsts...the first morning waking up after receiving the news and feeling the gut punch that has now become a daily thing, the first day back at work, the first time eating out at the restaurant we ate with him the last time he was home, and the first time I slipped on one of the shirts he should be wearing instead of me. And then there was the first time I used the Kindle he gave me, put on the earrings he gave me, used his coffee cup, and wrapped his scarf around my neck. 

The last few days have brought on several "bigger" firsts...the first Thanksgiving without him, the first time decorating for Christmas without him, planning the first family get together without him, and driving past a favorite family vacation spot without him. It's weird how the mind conjures up all these memories on its own - things I would never think of unless I see something that triggers the memory. Things like a road sign announcing we are approaching Eugene T. Mahoney State Park. That triggered A LOT of memories. That was a place where we spent many glorious summer days as a family. A place where we swam in the coolest wave pool ever, experienced melodramas, took long walks, learned about animal tracks, painted ceramic treasures, played in a ginormous indoor playplace, and consumed delicious food. The food always seemed to taste better when we were camping - the breakfast burritos were always a favorite. I can still see Jim and Brendan walking up to the bath house together, playing basketball and setting up the campsite. We have so many great memories of our time there. Including the one time that Jim's mom came with us after dad died. Mom had such an amazing time. I remember finding a little notebook where she had written about her time there with us and she even documented the meals I fixed in the dutch oven. 

Now that both mom and Brendan are gone (and a whole host of other family members), I am convinced, more than ever, It's the time spent with family and friends that matters the most. This is the stuff that sticks with you. It's recalling these precious memories that brings a smile to my face and lifts my heart. I cannot remember what we were wearing, what vehicle we had, what "things" that we made sure came along on the trip because we couldn't be without them, etc., but what I do remember are the adventures we experienced together. I remember huddling together in the center of the camper on a different trip during a terrible storm. Jim and I were scared - it really felt like the camper was not going to be able to withstand the storm. We comforted our three kids, prayed together, and sang songs to pass the time until the storm passed by. 

Storms. Our personal storms are often the most devastating. We have weathered a plethora of storms - some of the ugliest ones, like Shaylee's birth at 30 weeks, Jim's stroke at 38 years old, the Stratford tornado, Maddy's chronic health conditions and multiple family members with mental health emergencies, threatened to undo us. They likely would have if our foundation was not built on Jesus. God has carried us through each and every one of these. My tears have flowed like a river, I have been completely depleted and without strength, I have been unable to speak, and felt utterly defeated, but the Lord is faithful. His mercies have truly been new each and every morning. He has sustained me. He will continue to sustain all of us. He will meet every need - physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, and financial. He's proven Himself. Disaster, loss, and trauma will continue to find us. We will feel defeated, like we can't go on, perhaps even desire the release of death from the pain of life, but God will not leave us. The pain of this life is significant, no doubt, but Christ has already overcome the world. There are better days coming. Until then, trust the Savior to carry you when you are unable to walk on your own. You are the hope someone else is looking for. You have a purpose. Consider letting Jesus use your pain for His greater glory. That is what I am asking Him to do for me. He will be the lifter up of your head, the light in your darkness, and the presence that will not desert you. He stays...through it all.