My heart woke me up in the middle of the night. This summer I have heard stories of cancer that have encroached on families. The women in each story are my age; mothers of young children.
Each woman has shared their beautiful story; allowing words to speak their journey. These words are hard to read. I found the stories various ways–family friends, blogs recommended, facebook connections.
Around 2 am, I woke up with profound sadness on my heart. I began to pray for a woman I’ve never met, in fact, one I’ve never even commented on her blog. Her story has pushed forward in my head and I often think of her.
Her words, Kara’s word on her blog Mundane Faithfulness, are rich and heavy. They are not often easy to read but they are so very authentic.
She speaks about living in the moment. She honestly challenges us, her readers, to invest in the at moment at hand.
All this came crashing down on me at this dark hour. The weight of the last few weeks have challenged me. I have found myself wondering if life will get easier. Will a child of ours finally understand that she is loved boundlessly? Will worries and fear of a young boy saying good bye to our dog of almost 16 years be assuaged? Will I find myself living in the moment, truly enjoying each minute rather than finding myself longing for something else easier?
I want to live intentionally. I don’t want a life altering illness to be my wake up call. I don’t want to live a world of regret that I did not do enough.
My mind kept going back to the scene of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. He wept tears, angst ridden over the weight of what was ahead of him. If I allow myself, for just a brief moment, to sink into the world of just a few people struggling with life, that burden seems mind numbing and huge. I cannot imagine the weight of all pain, of all grief, of all hurt.
I don’t want to linger in the world of “what if” when I have the world at hand.