Blessed Be Your Name

I haven’t written much about my faith here over the last few years. There’s a lot to say about that, but the reality is that I’m not ready to say all of it. What I know is that life is more complex than I ever dreamed and the answers aren’t readily available like I once thought.

I will never forget walking into the room. A heartbeat separated by several years. She lies, unseeing eyes fixed on the ceiling, mouth slightly open, an agonizing moan ever present on her lips. I clutched her unfeeling hand, told her that I loved her, and fled the room sobbing. My new husband caught me in the parking lot and held me as the heartache racked my body.

All this time later, I struggle to find her face before.

You give and take away. My heart will choose to say, Blessed be Your Name.

I never wanted to walk into that room again. Yet, there I stood. So many years later. A different city. A different room. A different her. But, it was all the same.

She didn’t look like herself. She looked like her mother, several years gone. Eyes unseeing. The sharp intake of breath and, “don’t go in there,” from my own mother. My own eyes glazed over and unseeing as I held her daughter as close to me as I could.

We aren’t given the choice on where life takes us. The path of life is set before us and there’s only one way off.

I never wanted to stand in that room again. Yet, there I was. Hugging, crying, holding tight. Saying goodbye.

She waited for her daughter to come. And just like that she was gone. We lingered, we hugged, we cried, and we laughed.

Later, sitting in my hotel room as my mother talked to my father, I cried and sang softly to myself, “You give and take away. My heart will choose to say, Blessed be Your Name.”

There’s so much that I don’t know. But what I do, is that I fervently hope that many years will pass before I enter that room once more.

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About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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