Today, Tomorrow, Always

Time marches onward. Farther and farther away from June 27th. Closer and closer to a time when there will be a new normal. 

90% of the day is fine, usually more than that. Most of the time, I look at our new life and I really am okay with it. Is it frustrating to not have any bookshelves or even the need for them? Yes. Is it maddening that there is no way to replace our book collection, no matter what we do? Yes. The books were ever so meaningful to me. There are so many maddening and frustrating things. Sometimes I just lose my marbles and I sit, and I cry, and I weep.

But then, I continue to march on. That is the way of it. 

I really miss Alaska. I knew that I would miss it, so this comes as no surprise to me. We did not move because we somehow did not like where we lived. I miss the beach, I miss the beauty, I miss the smell of fish guts and salt water. I miss the cool weather. I miss being able to wear a sweatshirt throughout the year. I miss that it is blueberry and lingonberry season right now. It hurts and the hurt is ever so real.

While the hot sun beats down day in and day out here I sometimes have the wish to flee back to the place that is cool and gorgeous. Where I can walk outside and actually breathe without laboring from humidity. But really, it just takes me back to the place of greatest heartache, and there is absolutely no way I am ready for that. And I really don't want to leave, I just miss it. We had to leave so badly, there was no way to leave Alaska in a good state of mind. It is sad, that is all.

On days like today, things are just harder than they usually are. Typically, almost the entire day is fine. There is usually some point in each day when I am just overwhelmed by the absurdity that is life after a debilitating event. Usually, though, the hope is not just cognitive. Usually, the hope descends to my heart as well and I am able to carry on. Today it just stays in my head. Sometimes praying feels like talking to the ceiling. I know there is a big God who is taking care of us. I have proof of that care all around me throughout each day. But some days are too big for me to handle and sometimes everything feels far away. Sometimes comfort can only come in the physical sense of another human being. Often, this is how God touches my life...with people coming beside me.

I cannot describe how thankful I am for my husband. There are no words and my eyes fill with tears just thinking about the gratefulness I have for him. 

I really thought that I appreciated him 10 weeks ago. I did, but nothing close to the love I have for him now. If this experience has taught me nothing else, it taught me that I chose the right life partner to walk through the valleys and shadows with. This horrifying thing that has happened has made us stare at each other and literally know that this is all we've got: each other. At the end of the day, he is the physical presence of care that God has offered me. And I love him, desperately. I am so, so, so thankful. I know many people who no longer have the person they love to walk with them through this rocky thing called life. 

But I have Kennan. I have hope from above. And even on dark days like today I know, deep within myself, that I will make it to nightfall because I am not alone.

Honestly, though, please say a prayer for me today. For some reason today is just really, really difficult. Most days are not like this, thank God. But today is, and that is my reality.