Maybe because we're all just passing through, and this is just a stop on the way to where we're going.
Some pass through so briefly, like baby Ella, and the twins, Emma and Taylor, and my little nephew, Matthew, and a million other tiny people who come and go in a flash, but leave a searing and lasting impact on those who were stricken by their love.
I can't help but think of my dear friend Pat, who almost adopted a little girl she'd been fostering. (Almost is such a brutal word, isn't it?) At the last minute she was required to pass that little girl back to her birth mother, leaving Pat empty handed. But not empty hearted. Even though she was devastated because she only got to provide a temporary home, I think that little girl will always be her daughter.
A few weeks ago, my own daughter went to The Festival of Colors and her shirt came back different. Messy different. It was splattered with all kinds of new colors, stained together forever. I bet even if I tried, I couldn't bleach those colors out. They are a permanent part of the shirt now.
A permanent beautiful part.
Isn't it weird how the passing through is so short for some and so long and drawn out for others. Take my Gigi, for instance, who had a stroke in Jan, then fell and broke her ankle in March, and who, being in and out of the hospital, an assisted living center, and two rehab facilities, collapsed into her bed yesterday after physical therapy saying, "Lordy, lordy, lordy. Just let me die already!"
No matter the hows, or the whys, or the whens of those passing through, they all have one thing in common--pain and sorrow. That's why the purpose of the magic quilt is to travel around and bring comfort and healing to those looking it in the face.
The first recipient was Stan. After Stan's death, his wife Lila kept the quilt for a few months and then, in a moment that sent chicken skin and goose bumps across my entire body, she passed it on.
I will tell you about that passing in tomorrow's post.
4 comments:
This post made me cry for so many reasons. Thank you for sharing my pain and acknowledging it is so real. Perhaps that is one of the hardest parts about it, that it feels like a pain that only I feel and carry. Thanks for sharing the burden. LY girl.
Pat, I think all grief feels this way..."a pain that only you feel and carry". It is so personal. I do understand what you feel...I think women who have stillborn babies or miscarriages often feel this way, as well.
Know that no one has to validate your pain, it is there and you are entitled to every tear it brings to you. I'm glad you've found those who embrace your tears and support you in this trial.
We are blessed with the knowledge that Jesus felt these pains and through the atonement we are blessed to know that there is one person out there that knows exactly what we're going through because He has felt it, too!
Debbie, I'm excited to read about the quilts through this month...thanks!!!
Amanda thank you for your words of comfort.
Debbie, you inspired me to write a post expanding on my comment in your box.
And I am excited to read about the quilts as well. So glad you came back to this blog.
Love you both! I am going over to read your post, Pat, before I post here again tonight.
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