To say that the 3 year anniversary of Matt's death was emotional is an understatement. While the Gofundme campaign was a tremendous success, it was incredibly bittersweet. I am grateful beyond measure that we did this on the 29th for the 3 year anniversary, but I am all too happy July is over. Physically and mentally, I am shot. I feel like I could sleep for a week. Emotionally, I'm not in a good place today. I try not to think about the accident (or the funeral). But that's like trying to tell someone with an open fracture not to think about the pain, to think about something else. My mind is a tangle of emotions, a see-saw of grief and joy. The anniversary of Matt's death is sandwiched between his youngest sister's birthday (on July 25th) and his oldest sister's birthday (on August 4th).
I'm just tired. Tired of reminding myself of the truth. Tired of trying to convince myself that it won't always hurt like this. Tired of trying to be strong. Tired of seeing Matt's sisters and brothers hurt. Tired of carrying my faith. Tired of missing my son with no relief from the incessant ache. I want someone to carry me. I want to crawl up in my Father's lap and be held.
I found myself doubting greatly this week, wondering if God's promises were really true. Wondering if what He says is really out there, if heaven truly exists.
What I found was grace to make it through the day. What I found was comfort to carry on. What I found in place of my doubts was truth. Three different times I picked up various books (Jesus Calling, Beth Moore's Jesus, the One and Only, and Streams in the Desert), only to read the same precept in all three, that God cannot lie. It is impossible for Him. My Abba Father soothed my fears. He reassured me of the truth. I am held.