My heart has been heavy lately—heavy like that anvil Graham once pounded on to secure rivets, buckles. I couldn’t dream of moving that hunk of solid steel by myself, it’d throw my whole body out.
Still, I find it much like my heart, unmoving and stuck, pounded upon, forging and shaping something or other.
And it’s just so heavy, weighted down for those I don’t even know.
My holidays so far have been happy, joyous—filled with memories and traditions I’ve been doing since I was a little girl. The smells, the sights, the music, all magical and special in their own way, bringing me back to times next to my mother cutting out cookies, decorating the tree, skating the pond.
Yet for some, those same songs that bring tears of happiness to my eyes bring tears of pain to others.
The holidays aren’t always a joyous time.
And while they’re over now, the tree down in our house, the stockings packed away. The memories remain. The good with the bad. The painful right next to the exciting ones wrapped like the lights we hang from our balcony.
You see, life has to go on for that pregnant wife who lost her husband two days before Christmas. I stand in awe of her faith, her submission to God’s will admirable. But, it’s still hard, her best friend gone, her world never the same. So, I ache for her. Crying for her as if she were my own sister. What’s more bizarre is somehow I am jealous, yet in the same breath would never want to walk her shoes.
In my own community there are people going through REALLY hard times. Their Christmas’s will forever be marked with the memory of hospital stays and unknown futures. I feel their heartbreak as their story travels a similar path as my own with Graham. It’s one I would never wish on anyone.
All this heaviness I feel with the tears right there at the surface make my own days hard to bear as I hug the toilet bowl and crouch over the sink as new life once again takes root deep within me.
Yes, we’re going to make it. Maybe we’ll be labeled as one of those families, but we’re going to be okay. Happy even.
Right now I am barely keeping my head above the waters, this post straining what little energy I have left. But believe it or not, the kids are taken care of. Dinners are somehow made. Baths are given occasionally. Laundry gets cleaned and folded eventually. And the dishes find their way into the dishwasher sooner or later.
The Lord is our keeper here. And while my sanity is oftentimes questioned, my husband a saint—the Lord is right in this crazy mix with me. Somehow through these four tight walls, and the endless sickness, I am continuing to experience God.
Perhaps I am just an anvil.
But maybe. Just maybe I can be a small encouragement to others during their heavy anvil-laden days. Maybe the Lord wants to use my history, my story to help better theirs.
Being His anvil changes everything. So, I’ll help how I can, taking the poundings of life, the relentless aches for another’s hurt. I’ll share all He’s done for me by giving what I can.
For now that’s our story, written in such a way that only He can claim the glory.
On January 8th & 9th (Wednesday and Thursday of THIS week)you will be able to download ‘The Dark Stretch’ for free on your kindle device or kindle app. Please spread the word as this is only for a limited time and I truly want those who need it most to get it.
I’m finding especially through the heaviness, He’s there. And I want you to experience that too.
Happy downloading! (Remember, this doesn’t start until the 8th. This will give you time to talk, spread and tell others)