Rain, whether its needed or not, tends to bring a mood of solemness, doesn't it? We can dance around and talk about the need for it, and we can even enjoy the smell as its coming in, but after awhile, it seems to force you into 'thinking mode'. Craig has been cleaning out his office downstairs. We've been in this house for well over a year. His office has been in a workable condition, but there's been lots of unpacked boxes stuck here and there. I think he's been inspired by getting this new job, so he's been on a mission to really get things put where they belong. I went down a couple of hours ago to ask him about something, so I started looking through a few of the boxes. The first couple I snooped through had stuff of his from way-back-when . . . like before I even knew him. It had been a long time since those things had been opened. I zipped open some old bag he had in one and pretty much shut the thing right back. That sucker STANK. If I had it my way, it would've hit the curb in a hurry. Craig is way more sentimental than me, so I put it back in the box, hoping I'd never, ever see or smell it again. I came across a white cardboard box and I immediately knew what it was. This was going to be the first time I would crack it open since I had closed it up over three years ago. This box was sacred. It held cards and letters from when we lost Avonlea and Lily.
It wasn't a small box. A small box wouldn't hold the hundreds of cards we received. There were so many, but I sat there and opened each one remembering those who sent them. I even remembered opening some of them when we first got them, because there was either a situtation that God really revealed himself through, or because the sense of grief at that time was so great that whatever words we received were forever etched in our hearts at that moment.
Once I read all of the cards again, I opened up the closet where we keep all of Avonlea's and Lily's things. I reached in to start to pull some of those things out, but I stopped and simply placed the box in there with everything else. I looked around before I closed the door and remembered the times we received or bought the items I could see sitting in my eyes' view. Everything had a story and I briefly ran those stories in my mind before I ran my hand over the shelf that held the Christmas tree my mom bought for their grave. That same shelf also holds the little statue that my Aunt Nancy left for them right after they were buried, and it holds the garden stake that came with one of the plants that was delivered to the church for their funeral. I stood there and remembered, and then I wondered what was about to happen outside. Kinda random, right?
You see, soon its going to rain again. Yes, its going to rain outside in a matter of minutes or hours, but some situation in our lives is going to come again and we're going to feel the rain that consists of something we don't find pleasant. God is going to remind me again, just as he did tonight, that no matter what that rain brings, he is enough. Remember the song 'The Promise'? He doesn't guarantee that we won't have heartbreak, or death, or loneliness while we're here. He does promise, however, that HE IS ENOUGH. He promises his presence, and he promises that he loves us and won't forsake us.
Even though it has been almost 4 years since the twins' birth and death, I thank all of you, again, for your gifts, love and support during the rainiest season of our lives. I still look back, though, sometimes and wish for those days again. I miss my girls, but I'm thankful for the rain of remembrance and for the showers of blessing that we received then, and even now thanks to a newly opened box.
Have a wonderful week.
Love,
How I wish I had known you during that time so I could have given you a hug and offered comforting words. I know you still miss those two sweet babies and so tonight I say I'm sorry for such pain in your life, but I'm thankful that you have used that pain and have become and even better person because of it. Love you!
ReplyDelete