Dates like this one always have such sharp teeth that gnaw at scarred places, threatening rawness and wanting to expose us to ourselves in our most weakened state. Satan has no creative tricks, just old ones that work.
But as I look back this time, I see not how sad I am, but how changed I am. I used to not only grieve the loss of this boy, I grieved the loss of my role as his mother. But I am not her; I am irrevocably altered, and I am ok with that.
That girl knew waves, but nothing of walking on water.
She knew dry ground, but nothing of true thirst.
And she knew how to love, but not how to sacrifice.
I am emptied only to be filled again.
I am pruned of my most prized branches, only to make the other parts grow to be just as healthy.
I am crushed, but not abandoned.
I have learned how to love with Strength that is not my own.
I am broken, not for the purpose of being fixed, but for the goal of being made new.
I have opened my hands to Mercy, only to watch it overflow in abundance.
I have claimed God as my Refuge, my Hiding Place, my Shield, and my Rock. He is my Protector, Friend, Helper, Strength, and Song.
He is my Father.
I am His, and He is mine.
And I long for Him and Heaven in a way that I never thought I could.
I have not claimed these truths because Josiah stayed. It is because He didn't.
He makes all things beautiful in His time.
