Psalm 34.

Yesterday, as we sat around the table with family - my boys wild and happy, my husband at the head, and with grandparents all around, my heart was full. We were happy, we were healthy, we were all togehter, and I knew that we truly are blessed exceedingly, abundantly above and beyond all that we could ever ask for or imagine.

Yesterday I could see clearly all that I had - all of the gifts that I could never even begin to count that were in my life. And, I was able to see past the multitude of messes, the spats between brothers, and the pumpkin pie that wouldn't set.

Yesterday, I saw how miniscule these mole holes really were.
And I want to remember this.

Because just across town, I knew I had friends who were grieving deeply - who actually had something to howl about. The night previous to this day of thanks, their father and husband went HOME, and although we all know this isn't the end of the story, they are grieving deeply. There was no Thanksgiving dinner at their home yesterday - rather a gaping loss in their family that will forever be relived every Thanksgiving Eve.

And I am aching with them.

And watching them amidst their grief and their loss, I can't help but put myself in their shoes. How would I handle this gaping hole, these next days, weeks, and years when I would have to live life raw? When I would have to find a new norm that forevermore would be anything but normal?

Would I reach for the grace? Would I remember the gifts, count the joys, continue to list my thanks? In the midst of brokenness, would I be able to fully live when my life was so full of hurt and loss?

As these loved ones grasp for ways to live in this new reality of life in the face of such a heavy loss, and as - by God's grace - they find the strength to carry on in this waiting room before the "Forever" really begins...

I am again reminded that this is a fleeting blink of a life. There are no guarantees for tomorrow, and although - so often - I would choose to rewrite the endings very differently, I am glad that I am not the Author of this story. He alone knows how this will all work out, where it all leads, and what it all means.

It is my choice to live each day as though it is my last.
To wildly love as though I am not guaranteed tomorrow. Because I'm not.
And it is my choice to hold with an open hand what isn't mine in the first place.

Might I do it with grace and with dignity.
And might I walk alongside my brothers and my sisters in the way that I would want the same done for me.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." ~ Psalm 34:18