Ten years ago today, my world and everything in it changed as I knew it. Ten years ago my world stopped abruptly without my permission. Ten years ago I was thrust into a chaotic, screaming whirlwind that disheveled all normalcy and threatened to destroy the very foundations of my being. Ten years ago today my sister died.
After struggling to drift off to sleep far too late last night, I awoke today to that all-too-familiar heaviness one author calls, "The Great Sadness". It isn't that it sprung itself on me suddenly, no, it's frequently looming unseen and undetectable to the naked eye. On a day like today, however, when dates and times and events forever etched on your soul press so unapologetically they can suffocate, that great sadness is relentless.
Today is much like THAT day ten years ago... as I sit in Starbucks, processing my invisible aches, I am surrounded by bustling people unaware-- their lives somehow unscathed by the trauma that nearly cost me mine. This used to make me feel so bitter, knowing that for some, a "bad day" is categorically nothing more than unfortunate hair days and rush hour traffic. Today, after years of being too intimately acquainted with grief, I am thankful that in His sovereignty, this is not God's chosen path for all.
For those who have thus far escaped the incessant pain of loss...
For those who have never had to say goodbye too soon...
For those who have never faced the words cancer... or terminal... or code blue...
For them, I am thankful that they don't know.
But for those who do know, for those who are also gravely familiar with sorrow, I offer you more than my sympathy. I have not walked in the shoes that you've probably struggled to simply just put on some days. I will never know your exact journey so I will not offer you trite words better saved for bumper stickers. What I extend to you today, ten years later, is hope.
A dear friend of mine explained a scenario the other day of waking up to watch the sun rise and due to a rather dreary Austin morning, the sun's arrival on that day was hidden from her view. It wasn't that the sun didn't come up, it did-- it always does, but because of the clouds and the engulfing gloom, it was simply undetectable. She was left in the reality of the gray-- wishing and wanting and waiting for the warmth of the sun's rays.
Today, even as I sit here typing these words, the sun is beginning its accent into the sky and I am reminded that clouds do not have the power to keep the sun from shining--they can only temporarily hide it.
The sun will rise again--it's rising even now while you may still be sitting in the hazy aftermath of your own tragedy.
You may find it too much to bear. You may want to draw the curtains shut. You may want to forever bury yourself beneath the covers and from its rays but know this...
The sun will rise again.
God never promised us days without rain. It may rain and you might just be caught off-guard in the storm without an umbrella-- left feeling scared, alone, and unprepared...but just wait...
The sun will rise again.
When it does, it may happen for you as it has for me, that you find yourself welcoming the warmth it gives and the growth that only it produces. You may find yourself stretching out beneath its golden-hued goodness and feeling grateful for a new day.
Ten years later you may still encounter a few clouds now and then, but if you decide to, you can and WILL endure them. And soon, if you can manage to keep throwing off the covers and putting on your shoes, soon enough you will LIVE.
"My life was suddenly divided into before and after, and there was no going back to before. But then I realized I had a CHOICE to live the after. I had to decide."
