Its funny how you can start the day feeling strong and mosey along ..."hey this ain't so bad." Where does that go? How does it disappear? I rest in my faith and it gives me tremendous assurance, confidence, peace. It helps me wait. I've waited before ...for the birth of seven babies. Those can be really long waits when you're anxious to meet the newest member of your family. I don't like this wait ...for eternity, to see Phoebe again. Her schedules, appointments are still on my calendar. Her shoes are still by my door, her blue, well worn converse. She would leave her shoes on the front steps. I won't let anyone move them ...just a bit longer please ...maybe she'll come home. Her soccer bag would be dropped on the landing. I miss that thud. The familiar space she occupied is empty, crying out for her to fill it. We dance around each other ...and then one of us gasps ...the obvious emptiness too much to bear at this moment. We tumble and toss, blindly trying to move forward. How do we move? What direction? What pace? Why?
Unsettled, unknowing, frightened. Only one place to be, only one place to go ...the foot of the Cross, because to be there means that soon enough, we'll be at the Resurrection. Slowly, the peace settles in again, we find each other, hold hands ...hopeful that one day the pain might not be so searing, the questions not so urgent. Hopeful that one day her gaze will meet ours, that gaze that will tell us everything is alright.
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