Part of Me

The year is flying by. I suddenly realized the other day that May is fast approaching. That means May 22 is coming. That was the day Macayla was born and that was the day Macayla went Home. Nine years. In some ways it feels like a dream that we have woken from but the residual of its emotions remain. Other times it is all too fresh and real. There are times, more often now than before, that the memories are sweet and bring a smile to our hearts. But May 22 is such a mixture of dread, pain, love and hope.

I dread that we will have to walk through that day. Less than a month away and it brings pain already. But there is such love that stirs there too. Love for our girl who smiled when we couldn't and laughed in the midst of a hard road. Love for our girl who drew us and others closer to Christ. Love for our girl and her dry wit, a love for her brother, a love for music, a love for dogs, horses and cats. But there is hope also. As of May 22, we will have made it a year. We will have traveled this trail of grief for a year and survived. Hope because our girl is no longer in pain, but quite to the contrary, she is whole and full. She is in the presence of our Lord and if we could see what she sees and fully know what she knows now, we would be throwing a party.

Part of me wants to skip May 22. Part of me wants to hide on May 22. Part of me wants to celebrate on May 22. Part of me rejoices and part of me aches.