I'm walking down our narrow stairway in black heels, and its only 7:30 in the morning.
There's the rush, and the lunch boxes,
the cereal bowls and many (gentle, because I am learning) reminders to little people to stay on task,
but this time even more because it's mom's group and a new babysitter and then the funeral.
It's not like we were bff's, or that she was technically family, but she was dear to my heart.
And the thing that I keep thinking is that I don't think I ever told her. I don't think she knew, that those times that we worked together, our hearts beating for the same ministry, loving the women there, attending ultrasounds, counseling and teaching - they were precious times to me.
It was a classic Titus 2 situation in my mind. She was not "old" (and certainly far, far too young - by our standards, to leave us here on earth) - but older than me. And her life experiences were like this path that had gone before me and aided in illuminating my own journey.
So, she's gone now and I am trying to keep busy, and keep them on task, and keep me on task and not think too much.
We get through our morning routine with ease, and for that I am thankful.
The day is long and yet each hour seems to tick by as if a minute. If that only makes sense to me it is okay, because my heart feels this often.
I sit in the church with a somewhat familiar conflict of emotion playing out within me.
To be a part of this ministry. This family. To be seated so close to her family - because she was a part of ours.
Blessed to have had the privileged of knowing her. Training under her. Encouraged by her.
Hurt, sad, a little confused.
That I really will never see her again. She won't come walking through the doors of the Center for Women with her signature (beautiful) grin, compliments, and, some form of delicious baked goodness.
That she was too young.
That I won't know why. And in my heart I know she's with Jesus, and why doesn't matter, but...
That it's all just so final.
Encouraged and challenged.
That this will some day be said of me, "Jesus was her everything"
"He was enough"
Someday when I am in heaven and nothing else matters, I want to have lived my life in a way that will be worthy of some one making that statement.
Challenged to always tell them. To tell the people that I rub shoulders with what they mean to me. Not to let time go by when I just assume.
There are friends to talk to and eat with, and it is all wrapped in bittersweet.
I run to the store, because Batman cupcakes must be made before morning. I look down at my feet as they begin to tell me that they are pretty sure I have forgotten about them,
that they are never stuffed into little (cute) black heels for 9 hours,
and would I pretty please let them out.
And I wonder why the craft store has nothing with Batman on it. Nothing.
I'm home and brainstorming in a fuzzy brain,
and realizing that doesn't work well at all,
and thinking that I might lay down on the floor after Kai's diaper change, and I may not get back up.
He makes supper, and I wonder how I ever got so lucky. He seems to become more intuitive each year, but he hates it when I say that because the pressure scares him like crazy (sorry honey, but I still think it's true).
There's small group, and friends that have begun to mean more to us than we ever imagined, and conviction and sharing God's call on our life to a new level of obedience.
And eventually..... there is a soft, comfy bed to crash into.
I say thank you Jesus, thank you, thank you, thank you.
And I usually take delight in thanking Him for the details, but tonight he knows. I know He knows way more than I do, and I don't have the details, I just don't. I have some tears, but I also have an unexplainable joy.
Oh, and thanks to pinterest, toothpicks, a hot glue gun, and a cake mix, I also have these...