Saturday, April 7, 2012
I awake early. It seems not a moment passes until I realize what today holds. The pain of the last days coats my face with huge wet drops and chokes my throat. Breathing is only possible if I stand. I cover my face with tissues and quietly move down the hall, peeking at my sleeping grandchildren, closing the doors of their bedrooms with the skill acquired from years of motherhood and now Nana-hood. Ron is making the coffee, while I step onto the back porch, a box of tissues in hand, striving to control my sobbing, distanced away from the sleeping ones. The sun shines through the trees and pierces my soul with the faithfulness of its Creator.