Encircled
We did it. We made it. And we even enjoyed Thanksgiving more than we might have thought possible. We were soft with one another and we were honest with one another and we made it. But maybe more than that, we were carried through it.
When our children are little, we lift them up so they can try to practice standing on our lap, strengthening their balance and little leg muscles. Or we hold their tiny hands as they learn to walk, supporting most of their weight while they concentrate on learning the motions. That is what it’s like. I feel like I am relearning the motions, building strength back in my living balance, while those around me bear most of my weight, preventing me from collapsing to the ground and making no progress at all.
Sometimes it is our family, taking special effort to visit or to make sure we are not alone on important days, who grieve along with us.
Sometimes it is our beloved surrogate children - Benjamin, Owen, Ruthie, Maya, Eric, Jancy, to name a few - who text, visit, hang out until the wee hours, laugh, call, remember us. We have become Mama and Papa Winn and they love us in practical and tender ways because they know Jonah would want them to, much like John took care of Mary after Jesus died. Such a ministry of love.
Sometimes it is my chosen sisters and friends who know just what to say or when to show up. Who absorb whatever I have to offer or purge that day and are just there, in it with me, too many to name.
And sometimes it is Jonah.
And our grandparents and great grandparents.
And friends and relatives.
And maybe angels.
Those who have passed and I believe surround us more than we comprehend, rooting for us, laughing with us, offering the life preserver just before our head goes under water. I feel them, or at least the supernatural sense that I am not doing what I am doing out of my pure strength alone. I am being comforted. Someone is helping bear this weight, lifting me just enough so I can move forward and through things that would be unimaginable without their help. Hands under my arms, helping me shuffle along, breathing words of inaudible encouragement into my ears with every step.
And always it is God. God who bears the weight of my yolk, who blesses me with sleep and love and shelters me in the palm of His hand. Jesus who guides me. The Holy Spirit who comforts and fills me with lightness. I have been granted just enough of an otherworldly peak beneath the veil to know Jonah is not gone. He is in tact, unmistakably the son I know, and so, so close. It is truly a peace that passes understanding.
And so the news from this unimaginable land is that we have passed this first mighty test. We have done it leaning on and being lifted by all of you, seen and unseen.
Don’t let go now. Don’t let go now.
Comments
Post a Comment