It is amazing what is left behind once Death comes to more than just your door but to your home to sit for a while. I loathed him and couldn’t understand why he sat there, watching, waiting and lingering like he had something to say but refused to speak. I wanted him to leave us alone, begged him to go. But, day after day he stood his ground like an ugly piece of furniture and I learned to live my life around him. Finally, the day come when he opened his arms and took my child with him. He took my daughter but also a part of me upon his departure. I find I am left with a hole in my soul and heart.
Right now it seems I am in the valley forging my way through, looking for that “piece” that will fill my heart. Time has given me the wisdom to know I am not looking for things to get easier. Death’s disturbance and theft is not something I want to shove under the rug and forget like a penny left on the sidewalk. I want to remember Grace, miss her and feel the pain of her parting for the rest of my life. What I need and am looking for is the strength to bear her memory well. To know when I feel the burden of my heart missing her, I have the strength to smile, say her name and boast of her life.
Here is the sight I have gained that is helping to strengthen me. Instead of seeing I have a hole and something is missing, I understand I have been “imprinted”. Pressure has been applied to the most tender part of me and I am changed. And because of who Grace was and our connection, the imprint is deep! A mark has been made that will hopefully never fade. I reason to myself, “What if the point was not to try to cover over those places within ourselves? What if the road we are forging through the valley to the mountain top was never meant to look perfect like the over-botoxed face that neither holds nor displays genuine emotion. What if the provision for ourselves and others were marked by our “imprints”?” But, no one likes to feel hollow or scooped out from the inside. No matter how pretty I try to make it look, no matter how “glorious” or how noble it rings to have imprints, it still feels more like a “pothole”. And where there is a “pothole” there is a hole with a “piece” missing.
It has been over two months since our Grace transitioned from this life to the next. Today the kaleidoscope of my sight has turned and the “pothole” has transformed into an imprint. The “piece” to fill it has come into view and I am humbled. Through this journey the imprint has become deeper and sweeter because I have found the rain of Grace. It wasn’t I was missing a “piece” to fill the hole; it was “peace” I needed to fill the imprint. What a change in sight that brings hope to my hurt heart and comfort to my everlasting soul.
A life filled with “potholes” turned to “imprints” seems to be the road I am forging right now. My imperfections are not covered over, hidden around bends or beautified by misdirection. With wonder, I watch as the rain of Heaven fills the imprints of my life and I am filled with peace. All I can hope for is a life to hold the sweet rain. To remember the imprints and glory in the mark of life and death on the road of my life is to live well. So with humility I drink deep of the water that fills those places, the potholes turned imprints and when I see someone thirsty as they walk their road beside me, journeying from mountain top to valley and back again, offer them a drink.