Every year on November 24th I get older. This year I was looking forward to the flip in age- leave 33 behind and move into 34 expectantly. I was hopeful.
About an hour after I woke up I received a phone call that altered life--my youngest older sister, Sheila, had died.
Life gets put into perspective when your sister dies unexpectedly.
I spent the next two weeks at my mom's house. I don't remember a lot of what went on, except there was a lot of drama and people coming in and out. And food- a lot of food! (I am still eating some of what was brought! The tortilla chips are unending...)
What I do remember clearly was the presence and grace of God in those moments. Before my phone rang that morning I spent time with the Lord specifically praying about my responses to challenging circumstances, and my hearts desire to glorify Him in the moments. I didn't realize how fast that would be put to the test. I can't say I always responded the right way, but I can (thankfully) say the grace of God was on display in my life, because that's what filled my heart.
I know I had many people praying for me and my family that day. I cannot say thank you enough for your prayers, texts, and phone calls through that time. It has been three weeks- and it doesn't seem like it.
Grief is a funny thing. You get to the point where you can go for a bit without thinking about it, and then you pick up your phone to make a call to plan Christmas dinner. It is things like that can render one a messy pile of tears all over again. And that's okay.
We all grieve differently. I attended two funerals in the same week- my sister's and one for a brother in Christ, Jim. These funeral experiences were radically different. It really put the concept of "we do not grieve as those without hope" into focus. Jim's funeral was full of joy- there was sadness, but an expected longing for our Lord, an overwhelming confidence in His presence and the steadfast belief that this brother was standing in awe and worship before our Lord. Tears are different at those kinds of funerals.
I miss my sister. And I miss having conversations with Jim over biblical counseling topics. My relationship with each individual was very different. There is an obvious hole left in their absence. In both cases children were left behind. I pray for these kids. My heart aches for them.
We learn how to grieve as we go through it, I think. I grieve the only way I know how- I cling to Jesus even tighter. That's the only thing that makes sense in a world that has gone mad.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound... That saved a wretch like me.
Here's to 34. Maranatha.