One Step at a Time

A year ago, I sat with my mom at a little cafe overlooking the highway, and as I watched the cars go by, I told her I was thinking about starting one of those "blog thingies".    I was getting the writer's itch, and thought a blog might be a blank palette to combine my love of photographs and my desire to express myself through writing.  My mom had no idea what a "blog" was, but she was whole heartedly on board.  In fact, she continued to bug me about it for weeks until I wrote my first blog entry.

I had only a few guidelines for my blog: First, I wanted it to be a place to recall fond memories and thoughts on life.  I love writing about the little details that make me chuckle.  I wanted it to be a place where I was free to share my foibles, and shortcomings, and talk about nothing. I didn't want it to be overly serious... mainly because I really don't take myself seriously.  And most importantly, I wanted it to be a little slice of life for my family to read so that they knew what was going on, even though we were separated by miles.

So I began my blogging journey.

Along the way, I rediscovered my love for writing.  It's therapeutic and fulfilling.  It clears my head and awakens my senses.  I look at life differently, now.  I'm always searching for something positive to share on my blog each day. It's had a way of helping me keep a sunny outlook on life.

Mom was there to cheer me on, and was my most faithful follower.  She loved to read my blog each day, and she HOUNDED me with phone calls whenever I went a few days without a new post.  She was my most faithful commenter, and she treasured seeing her grand babies on the blog.

When my mom passed away last week, it felt like time stood still.  Each day felt like an eternity.  My emotions were out of my control, and the intense pain in my heart felt like it was too much to bear.  I came to the Lord empty, and weary, and desperate.  I cried out for Jehovah Rapha to heal my hurts, and sustain me through this nightmare I was living.

And each day He has been faithful.  Each day the fog begins to lift a little, and I see with greater clarity.  Each day I take one step forward, and breathe a little easier. I know I've only just begun my journey through grief.  I know that the road will be long and difficult.  I also know that the Lord won't give me more than I can bear, and that my family is there right beside me to carry me through.

My dad told me that even when we feel like life has come to a screeching halt, the world around us moves forward.  The sun still rises every morning, the birds still chirp, and life goes on.  We've got to learn to go on living.

He's absolutely right.

I sat with my girls out in the middle of our pasture yesterday.  The sun warmed my back, and the tall grass swayed with the gentle breeze.  The birds sang a carefree melody, and cows quietly grazed in the field without a care in the world.  They don't worry about tomorrow, or dwell on yesterday.  They take life one day at a time.

I'm going to do the same.  It's going to be hard for me to write about anything else but Mom, because her life consumes my thoughts right now.  But I'm going to try my best to find one positive thing to write about each day.  Like an elephant in the room that no one acknowledges, but everyone knows is there, I'll try to avoid writing about the obvious grief.  Instead, I will share everything else.  I'll journal about cows, and kids, and my embarrassing moments.  It will be good for me to focus on the positive, and might just help me in the healing process.  But don't think for one second that my mother isn't on my mind every day.

Some days it will be a challenge, and some days you may see a lot of pictures of cows when I'm at a loss for words, but I will continue on with my writing, and focus on my little blog.

It's what Mom would have wanted.