It's late on a Friday night. The dishwasher is running because no one likes it to run during the day. The Christmas tree has been down for a week but there are a few straggling lights and tinsel to remind me that the holiday was recently here. It's cold. I think I say that about every place in which I find myself. Does heat exist anywhere?
I feel empty. Really empty.
Sometimes it happens in this life. Sometimes it is by choice and sometimes it just creeps in.
I recently visited my grandfather and that took a deep, deep toll on me. When my husband picked me up at the airport at 2330 on a Monday night, I was toast. It was the worst flight of my life because I felt very unwell, my ears would not pop and it was excruciating, and I was holding back a sea of churning emotions. Ryan said, "I know you left a piece of your heart..." and that's all I heard. Hugging my Grandpa in the car at the MARTA station, feeling very much like it was my very last, was wonderful and painful and quick and slow and time felt like it had stopped and started a thousand times. I didn't say anything of value as you might expect, because. Useless. I am absolutely useless in times like this. You expect a grand speech from the wordsmith and you will always get nothing. My Grandpa has been my best birthday pal, Scrabble opponent, hero of faith, Sunday dinner neighbor-to-the-right for 40 years, and I cannot find the word for "goodbye." My grief was so deep that Monday night that I felt it would suffocate me. Grandpa, you have been witness to my whole life. You still believe in me after all this time; that is no small thing. I am profoundly honored to be one of the apples on your family tree.
Cue the busy, exhausting holidays. I start taking a medication that has difficult side effects, and there is no rest when you work in health care; in fact, it is worse than usual during the holidays. I try to spread Christmas cheer by singing loud for all to hear. Cue the grumpy people: "Why are you singing?" Well, Scrooge McDuck, I'm singing because you need a real attitude adjustment and "Jingle Bells" is the best cure. This goes on for several days, with several people coughing and not covering their mouths, and snotting and snorfling, and singing until.....it's the new year and you are sick....at the hands of these grumpy non-singing cheermeisters. Then in two short days, a dear family friend meets Jesus face-to-face; a new, chubby, sweet baby niece is welcomed; and you cannot sustain another day.
That's today, gentle readers, that's today.
I have nothing left to give. I have given the best years of my life in just five short weeks, and now I am done.
Everything hurts (my entire left arm, my right wrist, my head, my heart, my throat, my lungs). I am waiting for death or the ticking of the clock to tell me to get up and care a bit.
Love has weighted me down and lifted me high. I fear that sometimes love costs too much. It seems it would be better to be alone and then nothing would overwhelm. No outside parties would prey on your emotions and cause you grief.
It seems right and logical.
But I would bear all the grief, a hundredfold, if it means I have paid the cost of love. For while the price is high, the stakes are permanent. Love always leaves a mark. Always you will be changed for the better. Always you will know abiding joy coupled with deep grief.
"And now abides faith, hope, and love, these three; but the greatest of these is love."
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