Glass

Tomorrow is the one year "anniversary" of a tragedy that has been a defining moment in my life for the past year.  The death of a young woman I loved as one of my own, a life cut short, events beyond my human understanding.  Daily life has become easier, but there are times when grief still completely envelopes me.  The car accident had a snowball effect, many other things stemming from that moment in time.

Some of that day I can still remember so clearly.  Parts of it that I fight to block from my memory, I just can't forget.  Other parts of that day I can't remember no matter how much I concentrate.

There are days I have felt broken, incomplete from grief and pain.  I have felt as though I have been judged in my grief, as if no one has understood, as though others have questioned it; after all, she wasn't my child, 'merely' my friend's child.  How dare I grieve so deeply, how dare I miss her so much?

The grief and pain from that tragedy, as well as my grandfather's death, compounded other things I was going through, other things I was feeling.  I began to experience delayed post-partum depression.  I started to question my place not only within my family, but within life itself.  I wanted to run, be anywhere but here, where I belong.  I felt broken, shattered and fractured.  One thing after another.

Because of this, and a recent event in a very good friend's life, she, our third 'half', and I were talking about grief, life, death and passing moments today.  We were talking about how we need to grab onto the moments we are given, and just live for everything it is worth.  Our spouses and children, family and friends, all need to know how precious and important they are to us.  It is up to us to make the moments count.  Life goes too fast, and often, before we know it, the moment is gone.  We need to take these chances to reevaluate our own lives, look at what we need to do differently, what lessons we can take, even what part of that person has been added to us.  How have we been made better by that person being a part of our lives?

I likened this to being a pane of glass.  When we are born, we are one, solid, clear pane of glass.  As we grow through life, as we experience different events, as people touch our lives, passing in and out, helping us weave our stories, that clear, solid pane is often broken.  When someone we love dies, when an experience is over, often a piece of us also dies, leaving us broken, shattered and fractured.  Pieces of that clear glass are taken away; each time we lose a loved one, each time we pass through another experience, we lose a piece of ourselves with those people, with those losses.  We become fractured parts of the whole we once were.

We can't see it as it's happening--we are simply too close to it--but this fracturing is all part of God's plan for us.

As we grow, as we mature, as we learn and love more, as we make new memories, as other people enter our lives--new panes of glass are added back in.  Big, colorful pieces.  The people and experiences who have passed will eventually also become colorful pieces, as we are able to remember them with joy and peace, instead of sadness and grief.  Pieces that begin to identify who we are, who we are becoming, who Christ wants us to be in His glory.  This is, if you will allow the unintended pun--the bigger picture.

Some day, my stained glass picture will be complete.  I will be a masterpiece, a work of art.  A HIS art.  I will be whole again, in Him.  Until then however, I will do my best to live sweetly broken, and forever added to, for Him.

I shall not die, but live, recover and be restored, but also declare and celebrate the good word and works of the LORD.  Psalms 118:17

*Ausha, Sweetheart, you are loved so very much, and missed every day.