Just trying to breathe
(I wrote this on Thursday….the writing is helping me stay closer to sanity)
It was all I could do to keep breathing today.
Waiting, hoping, longing for good news.
My sister (almost 5 months pregnant) offered again and again to come in the middle of the night. I kept saying no, wanting to not need her because needing meant things not going well. Wanting it all to work out okay.
Finally I said yes. I felt my heart calm when she walked in the door. I felt like the younger sister for once. I quit wandering and refolding the same shirts. Even at 30 years old and beyond the comfort a sister can bring overwhelms me, I am so thankful I have two of them. We nestled into my bed with fresh flannel sheets and chased elusive sleep in between constant cell phone updates.
No news. No news. No news.
My sister had to go, to care for her little boy at home so her husband could go to my husband over the mountains to help search. To bring love. To bring family. Her sacrifice freely given and gratefully received.
The strain in his voice when he called.
I pictured his face and fell to my knees.
The only word I could seem to find was “no, no and no”.
I kept blinking my eyes. It isn’t real.
But it is.
In one instant our life is forever changed. No warning. No getting ready. No goodbyes.
Agony in waiting for the one I love to walk in the door many hours later.
Confused children with really hard questions to ask.
Food, warm and nourishing, prepared with love and tears.
A hug that lingers long and speaks multitudes into my soul.
Tears run down both our cheeks and I am again touched by a friend who breathes the character of Jesus to me.
Compassion. No trite words. Listening. Loving.
More waiting then they come.
His mother. A widow. In one moment, life is never the same.
His face so weary and broken I feel my heart sink to the floor as he walks through our door.
Cheek to cheek my breath leaves me as I think what his eyes witnessed today.
He whispers. My body wraps his with everything I have.
Long embraces. So many tears.
I gently remind everyone they must eat. They say no then take plates and eat everything.
Sadness covers our home despite the busy laughter and buzz of small children playing.
It will lift. I know.
There is One who will turn our mourning into dancing who will bring peace and comfort beyond words.
Just not today.