I'm not one to look for "signs" when it comes to my faith. If things happen...they happen. I don't necessarily need signs for my faith to mean anything...for my faith to be substantiated.
That said, this has been a rough week for me emotionally. I've cried over memories of Mom - how this time last year we were bringing her home from the Mayo Clinic (still with hopes of treating the cancer). My Facebook memories have been littered with updates on her health. One particular post was of the last photo I took of Mom - as she sat up on the edge of her hospital bed with her feeding tube. She was smiling, she was bright and happy. She was getting stronger (at least a little) and she was ready to get back home.
The morning that photo popped up - as prepared as I thought I was and as often as I've looked at the photo over the last year - I cried. I cried to the point of sickness.
For a year, I've struggled with the idea that this pain I feel will never go away. This emptiness I feel will always be with me. That I'll never truly be the person I used to be because the pain and emptiness has rooted so deeply.
As I was driving into the office, the same morning this photo popped up, I was listening to Tenth Avenue North's song "I Have This Hope." And I'm bawling as I drive down the road. I'm angry. I'm angry with God for not allowing things to go differently. I'm angry with myself for not being stronger. And then I look up - for whatever reason - and notice a street sign that says Hope.
And the tears slowly stop.
Because despite the pain and anger...I still have this undying hope that eventually things will be better.
Sometimes signs appear. Sometimes they're present right when we need them - as a reminder that God knows what He's doing - despite our lack of understanding.
That said, this has been a rough week for me emotionally. I've cried over memories of Mom - how this time last year we were bringing her home from the Mayo Clinic (still with hopes of treating the cancer). My Facebook memories have been littered with updates on her health. One particular post was of the last photo I took of Mom - as she sat up on the edge of her hospital bed with her feeding tube. She was smiling, she was bright and happy. She was getting stronger (at least a little) and she was ready to get back home.
The morning that photo popped up - as prepared as I thought I was and as often as I've looked at the photo over the last year - I cried. I cried to the point of sickness.
For a year, I've struggled with the idea that this pain I feel will never go away. This emptiness I feel will always be with me. That I'll never truly be the person I used to be because the pain and emptiness has rooted so deeply.
As I was driving into the office, the same morning this photo popped up, I was listening to Tenth Avenue North's song "I Have This Hope." And I'm bawling as I drive down the road. I'm angry. I'm angry with God for not allowing things to go differently. I'm angry with myself for not being stronger. And then I look up - for whatever reason - and notice a street sign that says Hope.
And the tears slowly stop.
Because despite the pain and anger...I still have this undying hope that eventually things will be better.
Sometimes signs appear. Sometimes they're present right when we need them - as a reminder that God knows what He's doing - despite our lack of understanding.