Life moved so fast in June. And there was no pause button. It was just one of those months.
My mind came to this blog to write many, many times, but my fingers only made it a sad few. Too few. Because, as the moments whir by, I don’t want to forget.
I guess some moments are difficult enough, painful enough that it would be easier to forget. Like the moment this month when Matt called to tell me that his brother had passed away. We were hundreds of miles apart, in separate states. That was difficult.
The moment in the airport, alone with Isaac waiting on a delayed flight, trying to get to Matt’s side when my mom called and told me my aunt had passed away. Loss on both sides. And I wasn’t with either person I loved who was the closest to the loss.
The moment we stood at the grave site, and the reality of death hit home. How broken is our world? It’s not supposed to be this way, fathers and mothers burying children, siblings burying siblings. It’s not supposed to be this way. At all. At any age. Especially not 34.
The moment when Isaac woke up for the 5th time one night while we were away (consequently the 5th night of this pattern) and my body cried out in exhaustion. My heart did, too. Matt and I were apart more than we were together in those weeks and I was weary.
But in those difficult, painful moments, I learned a few things. And was reminded of a few more.
Even when Matt and I were apart, God was there, bridging the gap between us. He was comforting Matt in a way I could not. I’d like to think all Matt needs is me…but I’m not. I’ve never lost a sibling. I’ve never lost someone that knows you like no one else does. But God has.
I was reminded that this world is not our home. Even over the glorious beauty of a sunset there is cast a veil. For right now I see dimly, but someday face to face. Someday there will be no veil. There will be no death. Everything that is broken will be fixed. Completely. Forever.
Also, the truth that “He never gives us more than we can handle” became real to me. In the midst of consecutive days with multiple night wakings, when I wanted to throw up my hands and say, “God, I can’t handle this,” I was reminded that I can. Because He’s given it to me. And He’s helping me through life unpaused.