Today a friend
reached out and told me that her husband of 46 years had died a couple of
months ago. I didn’t know how I’d missed
it on Facebook, but I did. She told me
some of the things she was doing to ease the pain and as I looked through her
Facebook feed I was amazed at the joy I got from watching the videos and
reading the posts commemorating her husband’s life—well lived. His life touched many others. Whether we know it or not, that’s our
purpose.
Last weekend I
went away to camp to scrapbook to my heart’s content. A group of women get together twice a year to
go 35 minutes away on Lake Norman and spend time exactly the way they want
to—scrapbooking their memories, reading, rocking in the comfy rocking chairs on
the porch overlooking the lake, fellowshipping.
As I looked
through my friend’s memories, I thought about how difficult it was for me the
first time I tried to attend one of those scrapbooking weekends. I paid for the whole weekend but could only
stay one day—the pain was too raw—I had to leave. The second time I stayed two days and felt a
little better but got barely anything done—I spent most of my time reading. This past weekend I was able to stay three
days and I completed an entire scrapbook (59 pages) depicting the next to last
trip that Ted and I took to London, Paris and South Africa.
As I worked on
the pictures, touched the memorabilia, remembered how we’d gone barreling
through the South African savanna in our open Land Cruiser piloted by our
safari guide playing the South African national anthem at the top of my Ipad’s
lungs—I remembered saying “I’m so happy”.
And I was!
Happiness is
measured in moments strung together.
Some of us get more moments strung together than others, but that we get
any, is a true blessing.
To those of you
who have loved and lost, I feel your pain.
Hold those memories close. They
will get you through the difficult times.
