I thought I should write to you today, Reader.
I woke up early this morning with it heavy on my heart–especially after my husband nudged me from sleep, his computer screen glowing on his lap, an excited smile on his face.
“Babe–look at your stats!” he exclaimed. And there it was–even more than yesterday. So just like I did yesterday, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and read Every. Single. Comment.
I wanted to respond to every single one, but instead, I thought I’d write a letter to you instead. Because you TOTALLY deserve it.
When I wrote the “God will give you more than you can handle” piece I wrote it through tears. I wrote it with open scriptures in my lap and an empty house around me. I wrote it with the thinking that this wouldn’t really be one of my “big” circulating posts because–well, it’s just a little personal. And after publishing it I even wondered for a second if I should have just kept that one in my journal so I would save face and not look like a lunatic.
But then–YOU happened. Yes, you.
I don’t know you, and chances are, we live miles–states–maybe oceans apart. But your stories of loss. Of hardships. Of holding a newborn in a hospital room while hearing the news that she has a hole in her heart. Of sitting at the bedside of your mother who died the day before and mourning the emptiness of it and the folded sheets. Of searching for answers. Of hearing the news that a young daughter has been killed by a reckless driver. Of heartbreaking divorce. Of miscarriages and infertility. Of a doctor’s report of Stage 4 cancer. Of loneliness. Of redemption. Shall I go on?
The stories, the encouragement to go on, the love for my father (whom I would bet a dollar you haven’t even met), the prayers, the way you reached out just to give a *virtual* hug–all of those things wrapped around me like one BIG group hug, and what kind of person would I be to not express my gratitude??
Yesterday was the first GREAT day in a few weeks since my Dad passed, I’ll be honest.
Tomorrow will mark one month since he died, and I thought, honestly, I’d feel a lot more despair. But while reading your stories and feeling of your love–from Scotland to Boston to California to Australia–I felt my Dad in a way I haven’t felt him in a long time. This time, I didn’t see him wrenching in pain or staring up at me with hollowed out eyes.
I imagined him smiling. Playing with me in the backyard during the Summer or taking me for rides on his “cool lawnmower”. Laughing to Saturday morning cartoons. Completely pain-free.
And I think I owe a lot of that shift in thought to you.
A few readers expressed concern for me that I didn’t really have an ending to my last post–they wondered what the conclusion was after all that prayer and realization. The only thing I can answer is there isn’t an ending. Loss permeates your life. It’ll no doubt follow me until I pass through the veil and see Dad again. BUT I know that comfort is sent from the one and only comforter when I read His words or get on my knees. And love and hope and encouragement is sent through his angels–which undoubtedly includes you.
There will always be suffering in this life. Whatever you’re going through currently will have an end because feelings change and hearts heal with time, but trials will still come…and then come some more.
But my hope is that you’ll rely on the comforter. And that you’ll have an angel too along the way, sent from a Father who cares–whether it be a spouse or a child or a friend or a complete stranger.
Because you, Reader, were mine–and I thought you should know.