For me to live is Christ.
My mother is sick. I don't know where I'll be living a year from now. After agonizing deliberation I left my church home, and that decision brought with it consequences I did not count on. There are other things, I haven't the energy to write about just now. Did I mention my mother is sick?
Her illness leaves me uncertain. She will go through months of treatment.... a sort of barbaric barrage of medicinal ammunition is aimed at my sweet mother. I wonder what awaits us on the other side of it all. I wonder what she's thinking of just now, on the eve of her reluctant yet hopeful submission.
I wonder how does one decide right now that they will live, when living is no guarantee?
My jaw is tight, my shoulders stiff, my eyelids heavy with the slow collection of sorrows. This is not what I would have chosen for her, but I am powerless to change it.
And yet, I will count the graces. Even now they are abundant.
... that suffering and contentment can coexist
... that I can write in safety, even if it is in obscurity
... that at the end of each day I hold him, the love of my life
... that she, my mama, knows Him and is known by Him
... that He will heal
... that I can still see glimmers of hope in the middle of my mess
... the rain that washes
... kids and pumpkins
... the most beautiful colors on earth just outside the door
... how God answers prayers, even if it's a 'no', when I was hoping for a 'yes'
... that I've had my mama as long as I have
... a big church and a little church
... how sometimes you don't have to choose
~Maria
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