Weeping to the Father that things were not going like I had planned in her case. Angry that my efforts of ministry were not reaping the tangible results I desired. Heavy-hearted as another goodbye hovered over our home, the looming grief.
It was one month ago today that I woke her from her nap and told her it was time for the last goodbye. I rocked her body as she flailed against me screaming, No, no, no. You can't make me go. Nobody is listening to me.
And my soul was gutted from this journey a little more.
It's taken me one full month of staring down the pain of her journey to begin the steps of healing within my heart.
To allow the grief to wash my guilt, my fears, my weariness in the reality that I was never able to see beyond the mask of her pain.
I tried so hard.
I know it's not up to me, but I begged and pleaded from my knees.
God graced me with moments, where her precious Cinderella eyes would peek from beneath her veil of security to invite me in for only a moment.
But these were fleeting moments.
Just as quickly she would withdraw to nurse the pains she could no longer remember, and the only one to take her fury, to stand and be there when she dug deeper within her hauntings, clawing through terrors...was me.
It's taken a month to come clean that my calling to be her safe place was so. very. hard.
It's made my mama heart ache in fresh spaces I didn't know existed.
It's taken a month for me to write that here.
And that's okay.
Because this life we do, this calling we've obeyed, is really, really hard.
And in order to turn around and say Yes again, to embrace the revolving door once more,
I have to come clean.
Because He is Worthy ~
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