“Every moment I live, I live bowed to something. And if I don't see God, I'll bow down before something else.” ~ Ann Voskamp

One Year. Somewhere along the line I got it in my head that there was some significance in that. . In many ways I think I treated grief like a race, and the finish line was that infamous one year mark. I was going strong, surprising everyone including myself at how well I was doing...and then came March. March hit me like a brick wall. Was it was the realization that the finish line was just another starting point...Two Years? There is no victory awaiting me. Nothing will change when I arrive on May 8, 2018.

My life leading up to my mom's passing was difficult. The entire process of death was excruciating, exhausting, and emotionally taxing. It began in September of 2016 and had become unbearable by March 2017. Had I not had the arms of my Heavenly Father to fall into at the end of each day I am certain I would have curled up and died right there with my mom from a broken heart. As the memories of her last days swirl back into focus it has gotten harder and harder to keep the pace. It's like my shoes are filled with concrete and the milestone I had set out in the beginning to conquer is no longer an achievement I even remotely want to celebrate. Depression is what this feels like. Grief.

Spring. I used to love spring. Spring was a new beginning. But the reminiscence of where we were last spring, it is like a dark cloud moving in slowly, snuffing out the warm rays of the sun. We used the snowbank outside the front window of my mom's death bed as a journey's end for her life here on earth. Everyday it would diminish, just like her, and the day she died it was gone. As I look out my window and watch the snow slowly melt away I am reminded of that. As everyone starts to plant their flowers and gardens, I can't help but think of the days we would set a chair in the garage so mom could feebly attempt to move dirt around the seeds, everyday checking for signs of life. Knowing she would never get to see even one of them bloom. Spring was her favorite season.

I think I had managed in so many ways to just cling to the good memories, sticking that last few months of her life in a chest, stowing it amongst the cobwebs in the attic of my subconscious. I grieved the healthy vibrant mom that I had always known. And as I rounded the corner into this nostalgic season it must have broke loose and spilled out...grinding everything to halt. I laid down and gave up. The hard part, processing through what I so desperately wanted to just stow away, unimaginable.

My initial reaction to 'the mess' was to just stuff it all back in. Fake it till your make it. As many of you can probably empathize, that never works. The greater part of the last thirty-one days was spent under covers, bearing more of a resemblance to gloom than Joy. It is strange how your emotions can manifest into your doings. It wasn't just sorrow on the inside, it had overflowed into my housework, my parenting, my relationships with friends/family. My ship was taking on water and I was certain of one thing...I was going under. Unfortunately I am tethered to Sully and the kids so they were coming with me. The only word that I can muster up to even describe the feeling was overwhelmed.

As I laid there, day after day, the humming of HGTV in the background and the messes piling up around me I kept wondering...Is this the kind of life God wants for me? I have this beautiful gift and I'm squandering it. As much as I wanted to feel better, the anchor of hopelessness just drug me down further. I might have forever stayed there, taken up refuge at the bottom of the sea of my despair, letting the self pity eat away like rust to an old steel ship..but God had other prospects for me. Thankfully there were willing vessels in his fleet who he used to extract me from the deep. Following his prompting they offered up wisdom, encouragement, friendship, and HOPE. You just never know the impact you can have on someone, even just a phone call to check in can be the life preserver that saves the weary swimmer from drowning.

One of my life preservers came in the form of a book. 'One Thousand Gifts' by Ann Voskamp arrived in my mailbox, scrolled through the pages were notes, notes from a soul as fatigued as my own...suffering the same brutal blow. The book itself is inspiring, but to read the personal grief etched into the margins, a sister's loss. Not just any sister either. In a childhood where love, grace, and security were as foreign as snow in the desert, their bond was one of survival. And her sweet sister, she was also my mom. I am grateful for the tear stained pages and it's no coincidence that it came when it did. Water filling my lungs, I found oxygen.

Gratitude. I think the weight that sinks us is as simple as expectations. Ungratefulness. It's really easy to get sucked into the mindset of how unfair things are. To fixate on the things that are wrong in our lives. I can see so many ways God has blessed us, through our heartache, and through our mess he has managed to do so much GOOD. But I hardly take notice, because I am engrossed in my pain. I have these two little humans who are watching me, their hearts ache in the same way mine does...and they are ultimately going to take my cue in how they process their grief. Aiden said the other night, "What is the point of this life mom?" I could see in his eyes, it felt hopeless. What was the point? I can't help but think that watching me over the past couple months was detrimental. Seeing your mom lose interest in life itself, content in fusing oneself to the sofa, that would certainly cause one to ponder...what is the point?!

I can't go back. I can't rewind to all those moments I chose to wallow instead of seeking out gratitude. But I CAN start over. I can show my kids, my husband, my friends, and even my foes that I am blessed. The rain will fall on the believer and unbeliever, but the difference should be in attitude and actions of those getting drenched. I truly believe, that if I truly believe

that I serve a GOOD God, then I can accept His will even when I don't understand it. I wasted enough time listening to the serpent in my ear. I clothed myself this past month in his lies. Lies that threatened to destroy me. Living the opposite of a full life. Deprived of Joy. Empty.

Maybe that is the point...maybe I needed to be vacant so God could fully occupy my soul. It amazes me how many opportunities we get to figure things out, to do things over...to get it right. It amazes me how far the arms of grace stretch out for us, as far as the east is from the west. Eleven months ago today my mom was restored. Her suffering was taken from her, and she was greeted into Heaven in the arms of her Holy Father. As much as it hurts to find our way without her, how can we not rejoice in that? How can we want anything else as the outcome? It is well, with my soul.