...I usually love you. The air is turning cooler, the leaves are changing colors, we are being inundated with all things pumpkin spice, and everyone is pulling out their boots and jackets (well, don't be misled; this is Texas and our shorts and flip-flops aren't packed away just yet). And while all my friends are posting their cute "I'm so glad I live in a world with Octobers" pictures on Instagram, I'm preparing myself for what the end of October brings.
The 28th will mark the one year anniversary of the day my Dad went home to be with Jesus.
3 days in and I've already cried....well, more than once. They say time heals all wounds, and as time has gone on, some things have gotten easier, yet knowing the anniversary is near is kind of...well, sobering. Almost like re-opening an old wound and letting it bleed a little more. The hurt isn't completely gone, the sadness still wraps its fingers around my heart, and the ache still simmers deep down inside where I wish I could turn back time and rewrite the story.
Watching my sweet boys play is sometimes the hardest reminder of all. I wish he was there to see them, I know he would be so proud. Zachary found my keychain today with a small picture of my Dad on it and said, "Mom, it's Grandpa! Can we call him in heaven?" I cried a little inside. Sweet boy. How I wish we could call him.
It's a funny thing, grief. It's really a combination of so many other emotions. The longer Dad is gone, in some ways the easier it becomes. A new normal sets in. Life goes on and we rest with hope knowing he is in heaven with God. But then, there comes the guilt of feeling like you're "forgetting," the guilt of moving on with life and working through this new normal even though no one asked if you wanted it. We don't want to forget. And we don't. But, it's different now.
And yet, scripture reminds us He turns our mourning into dancing and our weeping into laughter. He sees. He hasn't forgotten. And He is holding my Dad in a perfect way that I will never fully understand this side of heaven. Just this morning I read Psalm 37:4, one of my Dad's favorite verses: "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." He spent a lot of his life trying to delight himself in the Lord, and the Lord blessed him because of it. Of course he wasn't perfect, but he took the command seriously to hide the Word in his heart and seek first the Kingdom.
I want to be like that. I want my life to speak of the love and faithfulness of a good God who loves me even though I'm less than perfect. Even though I yell at my kids, get mad at my husband, blame others when I should just take ownership, wish I had more than I already do, and am ungrateful for what He has lavished upon me. And oh! How He loves me! He loves me so much. And you. Though none of us are deserving.
So, October. You're still beautiful with your orange-red sunsets that pierce the sky and mingle with the mystic, purple clouds. The brisk, evening chill that sends a shiver down my spine as I wrap the blanket a little tighter, leaning in close to the fire pit surrounded by friends. The skip in everyone's step letting us know the holidays are nearing and soon our social media feeds will overflow with pumpkin patches and turkey dinners and lots and lots of boots and scarves--have I ever mentioned how much I love scarves--and all of that will still be true, even while met with a dose of sadness reminding me that something is different. Something that makes me want to live life to the fullest, love deeply, celebrate lavishly, and make every day count. Because, we aren't always guaranteed another October.