Time is such a funny thing. Most things, with time, can and will heal themselves. Grief is one of those things that everyone says will only get better with time. I know from experience that time and distance from George Mason’s day have certainly helped to ease the pain. Most days don’t sting like they used to, and for that I’m very thankful. But on the other end of the time, is the fact that the clock is ticking forward and my son didn’t keep living with it. I know that I’m feeling less burdened by that initial shock and pain of loss, but I still wake up every day knowing its one day further from having held him.
I’ve had a series of pretty good, even very good days after a week of rough days. It feels good to go about my day and not be on the verge of tears. It feels good to celebrate the new lives that have and will be joining us. It feels good to not be clouded by grief’s nasty surprises. I am so very thankful for the good days. They are restful and life giving in this stormy season and they make this whole living forward and understanding backward thing seem so much more possible. On good days I tend to wish that every day was good. That life would just always be sunny and the pain and sadness would fade away. I guess to an extent, time will make that happen… But as I look back over the very worst days, I realize how sweet and caring my God is. I realize that He has made himself known to me in ways that I would have never thought possible in those very bad, awful, terrible days. So when I find myself daydreaming about sunny days I also say a prayer of thanks for the bad days.
It seems weird to be thankful for bad days. Almost like I’m asking for misery or just don’t want to be happy. Except that’s not it at all. Its when I’m at my weakest that God shows up the most vividly. He is always at work in me and always present in my life, but on the good days it's so easy to forget just how much I need Him. The good days show me that my life still has a wonderful purpose and that I'm going to be ok. That the future God promises me isn't bleak and wrought with fear. The bad days remind me of my own brokenness, not just the worlds, and how much I need God. So while I'll always wake up hoping for a sunny day, I'm not afraid of the storm clouds in the distance. God has proven time and again that He is never going to let go of me. He is never going to stand on the outskirts and cross his divine fingers that I make it out of this alive.
God is actively at work. He is guiding me, providing for me, loving on me, and giving me the strength to get through all of this. Good days, bad days, and all the days in between, God’s mighty hand is holding mine and I couldn’t be more grateful.