I sat at my desk by the window, and opened my laptop. Instead of typing anything, I just stared at the blank page and the blanket of snow outside. The snowflakes were dancing to the song “Like An Avalanche” by Hillsong. With a single candle burning, I paused in that moment to Thank Him for His grace. I thanked Him for taking my blood red sins and making them white as snow.
The sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar mixed with Christmas music filled the kitchen. I was joyfully singing along to “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” by the window. Just as I was cracking the egg, my voice cracked, and my heart broke as tears spilled into sink.
I stood there peeling egg after egg. Breaking them and pulling back the hard shell.
Sometimes in the midst of such joy and happiness, pain can rush in like a hard punch.
Especially during the holidays, grief and joy mingle and intertwine like the red and white of a candy cane.
A song, a smell, decorations, or a show can send unexpected waves of emotion.
Tears spill with questions, old and new.
Look around. Smell the candle. See the twinkling lights. Hear the laughter and the music. Move.
In the grounding, the wound that bubbled up and festered out of nowhere simmers down a bit.
The light shines through the tears and brings the moment into focus.
The little girl of inside of me is here amid the festivities. She’s safe. She’s not always festive and bubbly but she’s present. Out in the open. In the light. In the truth.
She enters the fullness of the celebration mended… and broken.
She’s welcome. She doesn’t have to hide anymore. She’s no longer numb. No longer frozen. No more fake smiles and empty eyes.
She’s standing holding broken eggs, teary eyed and gazing beyond the kitchen window.
And she’s going to be okay. She’s breathing in new seasons with fresh eyes. Making new memories and even remembering the good.
Something changed in me the day I stood in the sterile cold surroundings of the trauma unit with a bright light shining on my daughter. To be honest, something changed in all of us. Trauma changes things, good and bad. It’s ripple effects are far-reaching.
My heart cried wordless groans for nearly two hours, the longest two hours of my life. I will never forget the joy I felt when she finally opened her eyes and spoke clearly for a cup of water. I was thirsty too, but it was a desperate thirst for prayer, hope, and healing.
What made me feel absolutely powerless, pointed me to the absolute greatest power.
When I knew I had no control, I leaned heavily on the One who Is in control.
Recently I bought my daughter a little red bag to use as a makeup bag in the future.
This morning when I saw the bag, I thought it could serve another purpose. I could fill it with feminine products for her so she will have what she needs when the time comes. I wanted to make sure she was ready and prepared. It sounded like such a great idea, until big crocodile tears rolled down my cheeks as I was applying mascara…