We were brave today. I felt none of that leading up to today. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t brave at all. I dreaded Thanksgiving all week.
Our sweet Jimmy is still gone, and, for the first time, we didn’t have our daddy—our precious patriarch—who would have turned 85 today.
We tried to be brave. We made plans, we prepared a menu, we cooked in advance. We took care of all the details, making sure nothing would be left out. And nothing was…except for the two whose absences broke our hearts anew.
Yet, even in the shadow of loss, we made a choice, not to succumb to despair, but to accept what cannot be changed. We chose to honor the losses by focusing on what, and who, remains. We, the walking wounded, showed up for each other, holding space for both joy and sorrow.
We leaned into the memories of those we so dearly love and miss, letting their presence in our hearts grace the day rather than silence it. We filled their empty places at the table with gratitude for the time we were given, and with love for those still gathered around us.
It wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t easy—but it was real. And in the midst of the ache, we discovered a strength beyond our strength. Bolstered by the One to whom we give thanks, we made it through the day with a joy-tempered awareness that sorrow never has the last say because we serve a God of resurrection and redemption.
Yes, we have tasted the bitterness of loss, but we have also tasted and seen the goodness of God. More convinced than we ever were before calamity struck, we bear witness to His goodness and help ourselves to the Mender-mediated joy that awaits, even when we’d rather stay in bed and hide under the covers.
Sometimes, courage simply looks like showing up. Today, with God’s help, we did just that.
“My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
~ 𝐏𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝟕𝟑:𝟐𝟓,𝟐𝟔