Friday was tough. It was one of those, stick-close-to-home-because-I-might-cry days. I used to hate those days because I felt so weak and out of control. But the older I get, the more I realize there's a need to embrace the grief and hold onto these moments. I find the quicker I let it flow through me, the faster it lifts.
My daughter came home with a book on Thursday night that my husband's raved about for years. She asked me to read one chapter to help her see what she was missing (she had to answer a few more questions on a worksheet). I love helping with these types of homework assignments--I relish a good book. The book happened to be Night by Elie Wiesel. Yes, I knew before reading it that it was about the Holocaust and that it would be dark. I read one chapter and helped her find the answers she needed. But then I was hooked. I started at the beginning and stayed up reading the entire book.
Obviously, I didn't sleep good; it took me forever to even fall asleep. Dark stories take a hold of me. I'm thankful that they do; it should grieve me. But they leave me with the never-ending question I don't like to be left with:
Why?
Why do dark, horrible things have to happen? Why do millions of people die in evil premeditated ways? Why do good friends have to die of breast cancer? Why do they have to be taken from a beautiful life?
Most days I have a weird, rebounding faith in good and in God. My hope seems to float through really terrible moments. I think that's why days like these seem extra dark. I don't want to stay here. I wanna jump off the horrendous ship as soon as possible. But sometimes the ship has to take it's journey and land on the other side before you can get off. And this time was one of those. Those dark clouds are still around, but they're not so near now.
Thank you for being so precious. I gave just a little blurb about feeling down on Friday, and you jumped in with sweet comments. Thanks for that. You always lift my spirits, and I'm forever grateful for you! *hugs*
