worst days are for remembering what you've prepared in all the rest:
Somedays it's just plain difficult.
And I come home angry and frustrated and exhausted.
Like yesterday, after a week of hard hard working. Of mustering the energy to cheer them on toward the goal - of laughing and living with them along the way, though every moment knit together will make it very sad to see them no longer.
Because dying, is hard hard work.
Because it's so much work - this letting go, this living in the full,
this being shaped and growing up -
this walking alongside the grieving, of grieving yourself.
It's hard sometimes to do the next thing, the right thing - it's not easy because it's right; lesser than often does right come with the euphoric sense of well-done, more often it comes with opposition that will threaten to beat on your most tender place - your heart. It's hard to come home with the biggest questions weighing heavy in your mind and short-term memory - hard when they come with names and faces.
But easier - when you remember this is a child, of God - Caller of them to His home, lover of them dearly more, through death to life. And you, thank God! as well. Easier when you remember that He meets you together in your moments of nurse and dying, where you each play your part, right. This, is our fellowship.
How! You are the softest, strongest place to fall dead-centre into. The bounds of the heart, soul, body and strength - the One acquainted with salt-traced and testing-stained faces, and companion to the deep burning angry, so as not to become bitter all together.
How long Oh Lord? We don't know.
Until then, Lord have mercy - hold us still, together.
Giving thanks for:
quiet evenings reading with friends
sunny fall days
my sweet, brave NM