For some random reason I decided to be someone else and just click on our blog as if I had never seen it before. Thinking, as I browsed through, "it's really hard to pretend not to be yourself you silly girl." But, I clicked on the "how it all began" link. I don't think I ever have. I read the post. I don't think I've read since the day I wrote it. And, I cried. I cried for that poor boy, those parents, that family. I cried for me.
Believe me, I've done a lot of crying over the last year or so but this was different. I'm removed from it now. I can stand outside of it now and look in on those people. With my heart aching I think, "oh my gosh, how do you survive something like that?"
With Jesus, one day at a time.
We're standing outside of it now but sometimes I feel like we're still in the middle of it. God has done so much in our lives. I am so grateful for the healing in Forester's body, the peace that passes all understanding, and God's presence that has been so near. But I'm realizing that though he's brought us through the fire, I still grieve that we, rather my child, had to walk through the fire in the first place. It's like a tender bruise that won't heal. Does that make sense?
Sometimes I'm just sad about it all. Not any less grateful, just sad. Today seems to be one of those days.
1 week ago