Some anniversaries are back in a flash.
Not this one.
I've felt every single measuring unit of this year.
July 3rd, 2018 marks one year since the fire.
Coming home from a visit with my mom in California, I opened the door to our Floyd home.
My throat and nose filled with the stench of thick smoke.
I wasn't even sure what I was looking at. I shut the door quickly then opened it again to try and make sense of the what I saw.
A huge hole in the floor where the ceiling fan fell through. Everything was a charred mess.
We had been robbed, and the house set afire.
I woke slowly this morning, thoughts dulled until the memory dawned.
It's been a year.
I let the memories come while still in a cocoon of blankets.
"My joy has flown away:
grief has settled on me.
My heart is sick"~ Jeremiah 8:18
My heart was sick.
From the same bed, I text a friend to tell her what happened.
She replied:
"I'm coming to you right now."
And she did.
Many people came alongside my family during that time.
Reminding me that Hope comes alongside seasons of despair.
"We can be mended, and we mend each other."
Today, I remind myself:
Life is full of unwelcome events.
Life is under no obligation to edit out all the rough patches.
Hope is a vital part of life, and it really doesn't take a huge amount! It's kin to faith and only takes a mustard seed portion to be effective.
I am never alone.
My God is El Roi. "The God who sees me."
I have counted my losses and saved the memories.
And Hope whispers: "The story isn't over.."
A year later, I am feeling a little more freed up from grief.
Thank you for letting me share this anniversary with you, dear readers.
Let freedom ring.
