This time last year...this time last year...this time last year...this time last year.
This thought has been a constant companion for me for the last year. This time last year Eva was born, this time last year we were happy, this time last year Oma gave Eva a necklace for Christmas, this time last year I was worried about Eva not gaining weight, this time last year we took her to a pediatrician, this time last year we were in PICU, this time last year we were doing the work-up for a heart transplant, this time last year we had hope, this time last year we were living at Ronald McDonald House, this time last year the doctors let us come home (home!!!) with Eva (oh the joy of it!), this time last year we took Eva to see her brothers play soccer, this time last year we took Eva to church again, this time last year we picked Saskatoon berries with our friends on our land...for the life of me I cannot remember if I gave Eva a taste of a Saskatoon berry fresh from the bush, and warmed by the sun (one of the best tastes on earth). I don't know why I long to know if I gave her a taste of the Saskatoon berries or not...it just seems like something I could have done, but might not have. I remember thinking that ,oh, she would have lots of time to eat Saskatoon berries, so I think I never gave her a taste...
This time last year my circle of friends was much larger (and smaller) than it is now. I had friends that have left me, or I have left them, or we have left each other. Unable or unwilling to chart new territory with the person I am now.
But, oh, I have new friends too. New friends that are united to me in the grief and grieving of their children. Old friends that have stuck it out with me and who are much larger in my life than they were before. Before I was the me that I am now. The me that looks very much like the me I used to be but who is no longer that person. And so this time last year...the future looked so much more promising than it does this time this year...and yet there is also Hope.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11) and so I choose to trust the Lord. Choose to follow Him and give Him my heart. And while this verse is very difficult for me to wrap my mind around when my daughter died. My daughter died! Why my daughter Lord? What plans for a hope and a future did you have for her? Where is her hope and future, O God?
But she is in Heaven and is more alive than I am. Angels tuck her in and she has playmates as she waits expectantly for her mom to come Home to her. She is not missing me, it is I who am missing her, missing her more than anything in the whole world...
How I long to hold you and kiss you my sweet, how I long for your smiling eyes and to give you a Saskatoon berry that the boys had picked for you. The boys miss you so much too, my treasure.
And still I choose to trust. As difficult as it is. I choose to trust. As shaken as my faith is, as sinking as I feel, I choose to trust you Lord.
That through all this craziness You know what You are doing, as impossible as that feels. Because often I wonder, God, do You really know? Because, God, there is so much hurt and pain in the world. So many people crying out to You and yet you appear to be silent? Why God, Why? And I know I'll never know the answers to these questions this side of Heaven and when I get there will I even want to know? And so, until Heaven, I choose to trust. In my weakness and in my despair I choose to trust. When I am weak and beaten, when my enemies rise up against me I choose to trust.