We are starting summer around our house although the weather has been much more spring like...until today. I think the sun has finally shone through for the first time this week. The drizzly rain is gone but the humidity has soared! The tradeoff for beautiful sunny days is walking through the stormiest nights of life.
The next big storm is already looming in the distance. We know to expect the winds to blow 43 days from today. We will feel a temperature change and the pressure build up long before the appointed day arrives, but we will try to be ready. We will remember the fair-weather times we have gone through, but we will still prepare by battening down the hatches and folding up our sails. We will hope for smooth sailing as the waves start to mount and the rain falls in sheets. We will get our anchor ready, knowing that it is firmly held by God’s unchangeable nature.
𝗪𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹, 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗹;” --𝗛𝗲𝗯 𝟲:𝟭𝟵
You might just wonder what I am talking about? Why am I talking about storms and even anchors? In my heart, I often feel that the battles I face come upon me like a storm that builds on the horizon. I know it is coming, I can see it clearly. I cannot change its arrival, only do my best to prepare my heart to ride it out. The storm that is coming is the one-year anniversary of Millie’s heaven day. In just 43 days we will commemorate, not celebrate the year that she has been gone from our lives. We are not sad FOR HER being in the presence of our Lord, but our hearts do grieve FOR US being here without her. We miss her every single day!
There are times I think I will weather that day without being overcome, but there are other days that I know it will be so much more difficult than I imagine. Maybe not harder than any other day without her, but a glaring reminder that we are moving farther and farther away from her being in our lives. As I post her pictures now, each of you can still imagine our 3-year-old little doll…but what about when I post them 10 years—20 years—40 years from now? It is reasonable to think David and I could live 40 more years without Millie. How odd it will be to be when I am considered to be an ‘old woman’ and will still speak of my 3-year-old daughter. Each year will bring its own storm. They may not all be treacherous or painful, but they will have waves that we will need to navigate.
I really like the wave analogy because this entire year of grief has been like those waves. Some have knocked me down, drug me under, and made me fear I would not surface again. Others have been gentler, causing me to rise and fall ever so slightly when the arrive. The wave I dread is the Tsunami…the one that catches me off guard as it silently rises just out of sight until it builds up enough force to wash me away. Surviving this wave is the reason I place my anchor in Christ. He will hold me fast when I cannot hold myself. “My Hope is Built on Nothing Less…”
Tonight, the sea is calm, my heart is at peace, and my grief is held at bay. Millie is not lost forever! She is simply behind the thin veil that separates her perfect world from our stormy one. She is living a peaceful forever, while I am living an everchanging and often chaotic now. Someday the veil will separate and Jesus will call his people to himself… Are you one of his people?
Blessings sweet friends…
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
I still believe in Millie’s Miracle
｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵
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