Dear
Ones,
I pull myself up from the floor, careful to
miss the rafters as I straighten my neck and shoulders trying to loosen the
stiffness as I rise from my kneeling position.
I glance about the attic space around me and contemplate. The past several weeks I have spent a good deal
of time in this space. I have opened containers and sifted through boxes
sorting, piling, unwrapping, carefully rewrapping, and at times discarding
various things. At the moment, I find
myself brushing the last of the tears from my cheek and wondering which item
brought them on this time. Was it the
hand written note attached to a Christmas ornament from Grandma teasing me that
I would be so much happier if I would come home for Christmas with her? …Was it the little boy outfit from India
wrapped carefully in tissue along with a photo of him?…Was it the heart shaped
piece of plaster with a hand print formed in its center, a hand that I will
never hold again this side of Heaven…maybe it was the neat rows of glass vases
reminding me of past pursuits and ventures, the wooden dolls from Haiti, the
delicate china tea cup that flashes memories of soft wrinkled hands
cradling it carefully, or the album
pulled from that other bin reminding me of who I am and where I have come
from. Here in the midst of this long,
low space, the boxes seemingly stare back at me as if they are inviting me to
dig deep, to remember. Here I find myself among the memories, the heirlooms,
the bits and pieces of mine and my family’s life. Each item stored here has a story, a tale to
tell, they hold memories of my past and opportunities to reflect. During this process of sorting and cleaning
out I have found myself bursting out with laughter at the funny things that I
have found, and then there have been the seemingly silliest things that have
triggered a flood of sobbing tears that shake my whole body and I have cried
until my eyes were dry and there were only stifled sniffles left. Granted there have been things that were not
silly at all that have also caused the tears to fall, and that is a good
thing. There have been times when I have
felt as if there was a dam holding back all those tears and I have been afraid
to let them fall for fear that they would never stop. Yet here is where my God is meeting me, here
is where He is holding my heart and allowing me to grieve, to be frustrated, to
wonder and revel in His plan, His goodness, His Grace! In going through the old, the stored, the
dusty, I am given opportunity to pause and consider not only what the future
possibilities are, but also to reflect
on many of the things that I have not had a chance to process through in
the past. In considering this time of
furlough I am grateful for the blessing of the tears, for the healing of the
laughter, and for the time and ability to be within my family structure knowing
that it is a safe place to sift through the various emotions and be reminded
ever so gently by them of those things that are true and the One who is Himself
Truth for that is the greatest heritage I have.
Though it is so very hard to process through
much of this, I am ever so grateful to be on this portion of my journey, to be
here and doing this now, to be growing and learning during this time. I am also being given the incredible blessing
of spending time being part of my family, getting to know my little sisters and
delighting in the precious gift of their lives.
I have been overwhelmed by the encouragement and support that each of
you have provided. You have listened,
prayed for, hugged, sent messages, called me, and just been there… I am most
richly blessed! I am excited to see what
God will do in my life this coming year through it all. Happy New Year!
Through
Grace alone,
Mariah
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