I woke this morning still searching, still praying, still pondering how this day is going to go. And I did a little reading online and found the following blog:
http://oncrn.blogspot.com/
I am going to add it to my list of favorites along the side.
It drove home how much I relate.
That I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now. And if I wasn't supposed to be here, I wouldn't be. Period.
Is this going to be hard? Yes.
Do I need to spin myself into this panic over that fact? No.
I have faced much harder than this. And look. Look at me. Here I am. Still alive. Still whole. Still singing. I have come out other side. I have survived the valley of the shadow of death. Who am I to be so afraid to peer back into its borders and recognize I am called to return, to help others through it? What kind of ego does it take to make my own fear this important, this huge? A big one. One that has no place here. If there is one thing I am realizing over and over and over again through this journey, it is that my requirement for this life is to be small. To step back. To hold up. To support. It makes me joyful inside. And it is time I started trusting what I have learned so far to date and to stop dreading and doubting...doubting life...myself....my purpose...my strength.
My head is up and I am returning to a place where a massive victory happened. Yes, my son died there. And here I am. Going back to that place. Facing it head on. Because I am bigger than cancer. I am bigger than death. I am small beneath the archaic wonders that cycle through this world, but in accepting and embracing my smallness, I slip beneath the radar and arrive squarely at the side of those who need me most. My life has more meaning than I ever imagined it might. It is time for more lessons and I am ready in spite of my trembling.
This is a big day. A good day.
About Me
- Sheri
- Texas, United States
- In 2007 my 13-year-old son died. He had been sick for about 18 months with leukemia. Finding my feet again has been difficult, but I am learning to carry it with me. This blog is probably less than scintillating, but it has been therapeutic. If you are a grieving parent, you will find more use from the entries that begin in 2007, where I detailed my day to day struggle with grief that got me to where I am at this point. One thing I know - it is a neverending journey. Life is never the same. But that does not mean we cannot learn to make it good. I am trying and, most of the time, succeeding. I wish you well on your life's journey, wherever it may lead.
3 comments:
Yes and bravo to you. Your courage shines and you have so much to give.
you know when you read something and it weaves its way into you, so that it becomes part of who you are? that is your words - for me- today. thank you.
Amen to that, and God bless you, every step of the way. I believe that Joseph is also with you, in some way, cheering you on and part of who you have become.
Sheri, I just met one of the moms who I know through blogging, the way I know you (Chris, of True North). Her daughter died just weeks after Katie, at age 28 - it was a freak accident, a rogue wave. And she and I just had SO much in common, apart from our daughters' passing...I felt they were right there with us, and had a hand in our meeting. That's what I mean about Joseph being with you. He helped to bring this out of you, but the potential was there all along. What a beautiful part of his legacy. What a beautiful young man.
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