~ Isaiah 45:3
This weekend has been filled with hope. I feel . . . relieved, though I am trying not to stake too much on this feeling. It is likely just a break in the grief.
Still. Since Eve died, I have woken up every morning with the feeling that she was inhabiting my night, no matter what I actually dreamed about. The past two days, I woke up ready for God.
I wrote to a friend yesterday that perhaps I am now ready for my life to be about life, not about death. Not about my daughter's death.
Is that awful to say? It sounds like I am saying that I'm eager to forget my Eve, to erase the pain of grief and her memory along with it.
That is not what I mean at all.
What I mean is this -- I tend to center my life around causes. Around issues. Like eating disorders. Like body image. I always want my life to be all about this one issue. To promote awareness of this one thing, and healing in that area. I think that I am an activist at heart.
And now, I have the opportunity to have my life be about stillbirth. About death. I could easily throw myself into this activism and never look back.
And, perhaps, never move on. Never fully heal.
So, when I wrote that to my friend, what I meant to say was that I am ready to leave the causes behind. To not do so much as be -- be God's. Be still. Be loved, and be loving as a result.
We are all going to point to something, I think. Every life says something..
I don't want my life to point toward death, to pain. I want it to point toward life -- or really, toward Life.
These have been the first consecutive days where I feel able to throw myself on God. Where I can look at what I used to believe and say -- Yes, that is still true, even after all this. Now that the emotion of deepest grief has broken, at least for the moment, I see that God is still God, still trustworthy, still good, still the firmest bedrock. That He does indeed offer Life and hope, even -- or perhaps especially -- when horror is all around.
I feel able to stake my life on hope again.