I am fighting a losing battle with tears this morning. It's hard to put on your makeup when your eyes are leaking. Not that I want to hide the tears, but I would like to at least dim the dark circles that I've had since childhood. These days it's hard to fathom the origin of my tears. They are such a mixed bag of joy, sorrow, awe, and, well, hormones. Today they come from a very deep place and I choose to let them fall, even as I write. Good thing I have not yet attempted my mascara.
To be alive is a wondrous thing. It is both wonderful, at times, and keeps us wondering at others. The Lord says through His servant David that we are "fearfully and wonderfully" made. That the maker of all things has known us before all time and knit us together uniquely and intimately - for a divine purpose. I like divine purposes because they stand when everything else seems to be falling apart, or at least just listing from side to side precariously. And I have learned to love being alive - in Him, by Him, for Him - through all kinds of weather.
Today, the weather calls for precipitation upon my cheeks. Well, let it rain. As I prepare to part from my precious daughter, son-in-law, and new granddaughter, I am filled with mixed emotions. I reflect back on the paths of life and the divine hand that wove them each into my heart. And I am thankful that I love them each so deeply that the tears spring forth. I would rather love deeply and hurt than never love at all. Love is one of those things that is the richest when we just run headlong into it; touches us most profoundly when we abandon ourselves to it wholeheartedly. And so, today, my whole heart rejoices and aches all at the same time.
From the day that my eyes first fell upon my beautiful Jillian, to the day that I met Jake at the coffee bar (not knowing that this fun young man would one day be my son), to the challenging & wondrous day of Cadence's birth, to now, the Lord has been weaving His marvelous plan. Amidst the fun of raising a daughter, the sleepless nights - due to illness or just crying out to God for wisdom, protection, direction - the anguish of sharing her sorrows, the joy of laughing at her silliness, His hand was always there. Through the uncertainty of "letting her go" into womanhood, I knew I could trust my God. How could I not let her go to become all that He had planned? It is a gift to let your children go. A wonderful gift to them. I still pray for the grace to do it well.
And so, I prepare for a new kind of letting go. The kind that means we'll be far from one another. I love this little family. I love the tenderness of Jake with Jillian as she weathers the changing emotions of new motherhood. I love his joy at the sight of his daughter and the way he talks to her, sings to her, and kisses her whole face. I love my daughter who is beautiful in her own right, and is now experiencing the seasoning of being a wife and mother. And I love my sweet Cadence as fiercely as I ever loved one of my own children. She is burned into my heart alongside Trent, Jillian, and Monica. My child's child. She is a wondrous mystery of potential. Her personality is already hinted at, her life's journey yet to be known. But she is well loved. And in a few days I will say goodbye and begin a relationship with them that does not rely on proximity, but on the oneness that we share as family, as those who love, in Christ. And He is good. He is all and everywhere. He will be close to them when I cannot be, and that is a far better thing. It is a wonderful thing. So, instead of fighting it, I will dance in the rain of these tears and surrender, once again, to His divine plan. Thank you, Jesus, for tears and for holding my heart today and always.
