We buried my aunt yesterday. She died just after midnight Saturday morning. The funeral was Monday afternoon. I'm drinking a glass of sweat tea at my computer desk 172 miles away. The tea was something a thoughtful person brought by for one of the meals provided for the family. Simple acts of kindness are much appreciated.
It seems like this year has been one of loss and sadness. Friends, family, pets....grief is grief and has its own recognizable pain. For me it starts off as a dull ache, like I've been stunned almost. Then sadness comes in waves as the memories from years past suddenly flood to the surface. But I don't get lost there. I don't wallow in the sadness or let the grief consume me. There is this peace that passes all understanding, and unless you have come to the point in your life where you have asked Jesus Christ to have your heart, it is not something I can even begin to explain. But it is there. It surrounds in sadness, comforts in pain. Always.
So now, as the bags remain unpacked, the sweet tea and leftover sandwiches in the fridge, and even the roses on the kitchen bar sit snuggly in a plastic tea carton, I will accept that peace. I will recognize the absurdity of having to go to the store to buy yogurt after everything that has transpired these last few days. But my life, the life of my family, continues. There are people I need to take care of and I will do so. It might mean that I forget to buy the chips for their lunches, and somehow come home with three things of hand soap, but I see it as a way to walk in faith and hope. And reflect on the joy of knowing that decisions and relationships we make here can have eternal significance.
