Today was a quietly significant step in severing my past from my future. It was quite emotional. Quite hopeful. And quite sad. All at the same time.
At one point I needed to get away from the crowds, so to speak, so I sat alone, having a quiet moment away from the bustle of a busy day. Upstairs. Away from the world. Just me and God.
As the tears of grief silently rolled down my cheeks, I stared blankly out of the window not really seeing anything as the puddles of salt water distorted the scenery beyond.
It took a while for them to dry up, but when they did, I noticed how today – from inside the warm sanctuary of the room I was seated, at least – could easily have been a summer’s day. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was a beautiful shade of blue, there weren’t any clouds overhead, and there was the sound of children playing outside.
If it hadn’t been for the leafless branches of the tree, I could have been persuaded I had fallen asleep and jumped ahead to the time after it was all over. I have prayed that kind of prayer soooo many times, “God, I’m not strong enough, I can’t do this, wake me up when we get to the other side.”
Have you ever prayed that kind of prayer?
In that moment, as I watched the birds flying between the bare branches of the trees, in my personal window-framed picture, God reminded me:
After the winter comes the spring.
On this significant day of the journey toward my future, I’ll finish with a verse a work friend felt compelled to share with me this morning:
“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Psalms 30:5
Is it morning yet? The night seems so long I can’t quite tell!