Who knew it would hurt so much?
I mean it’s been almost a year and I feel like a thick scab has been ripped from an unsuspecting wound.
Who knew grief would haunt you when you least expect it?
I didn’t know. I thought I was good to go.
I don’t think so much about her suffering. I think more about the days before the word cancer ever entered our conversations. I think about who she was. Not this victim who needed treatments, radiation, chemotherapy, meals for her family, get well cards, and wigs. I think about her radiance before a vicious disease tried to claim her.
She gave a speech once. She knew what her prognosis was at this time. She said that she was a survivor. She was surviving the attack of the vicious enemy. She would survive the attack… even when it took her last breath.
I remember the priest at her funeral telling us that she wanted answers for the suffering.
Don’t we all want answers for the suffering?
Don’t we all want to throttle the suffering until it can no longer take one more victim?
The priest spoke words I will never forget. He told her that Jesus’ story is about the suffering. His very purpose was to come here, to claim us, through His suffering. The culmination of His earthly story, the story that rattles us and tears the human skin from our souls, is His story of suffering.
She walked this suffering, bearing her cross. She was gracious, and beautiful, and loving, and kind. Her humor split my sides. She did not understand her suffering, but she bore it.
Face to face with death, how does a soul bear it?
I thought I had made it through. The memory of birthdays, Christmas cards, texts, phone calls. It’s been almost a year. I expected the anniversary of her home-going to hit. The same day as my little one’s birthday. My plan… focus on the birth. The birth of my baby. My friend’s birth into perfection.
I didn’t think the wound would ooze tonight.
But, here it is. Bleeding. All over a screen.
Life is good. Life goes on. She would want that. Then, this shot of pain… right through the heart.
Checking old text messages. Listening to old voicemail. Just her voice… one more time.
Grace like rain. The wound torn open to wash clean again with grace. Just when I think I’m good to go. He reminds me of grace.
We are not good to go here. We are far from good. We are covered in grace. Just like rain.
She would tell me this.
It will always be ok.
All because of His grace.
This grace raining over me. Me raining all over this keyboard. His grace all over… all of it.
This reign of grace.
There will be no more suffering… no more victims… all because of grace.
so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.