I lift my hands that were once frail, and I stand up straight on legs that were once weak. I proceed to walk on fresh, new paths with renewed life and strength and hope.
(Personal rendering of Hebrews 12:12-13)
Nature brings healing to soul and spirit and all that ails me. I’m happy we’re camping again. It’s a marvelous time for quiet meditation, soaking in God's goodness and nourishing my spirit. I feel reborn.
I’d forgotten how rejuvenating going camping can be for my soul. My husband and I went out on our first excursion in our new camper this past weekend. We stayed up late stargazing, in absolute awe of the Milky Way stretched across the canopy of the star-filled heavens. Up again before dawn, we watched the stars fade as the predawn sky lightened and the first blushing rays of sunlight set the eastern sky aglow. A deep contentment and lightness of heart, such as I haven’t experienced in a long time, settled over me.
Now I truly understand what others who have written about their grief journey have expressed. It’s such an odd thing. I wonder how I can possible be okay? And, yet, I am okay. How can that be? On one hand, there’s the sadness and unfillable void of missing our daughter. Yet, on the other hand, I'm finding new streams of joy.
It doesn’t mean I love her any less. It doesn’t mean I miss her any less. But, I am filled with an infinitely satisfying sense of knowing that God is good. Life is good, and my life has purpose and meaning. The best is yet to be.