I've felt this weight emotionally this week, a nagging pit in my stomach, dread in my spirit.  Until this morning, I couldn't quite discern the source.  Mother's Day creeps upon me, and consciously, I've considered how I wish I had been on top of sending at least a card to the mothers and grandmothers in my life.  But, the lingering sadness that seems to float around me has felt like more than that?  It didn't add up.  Until now.

I just looked at the calendar, and realized what it is that seems to have me on the verge of tears.  22 years ago, my week looked like this one.  Mother's Day on Sunday, May 13.  A mother's day where I rushed to a local supermarket to grab flowers for my mom and grandmothers.  To hand flowers to a mother whose son lay in a hospital bed, battling for each breath as death's grip descended.  Because my grandmother deserved the flowers I knew my dad would have purchased--had he been able.   Strange how those days, waiting for death to come, seem like a blur--yet tiny details are forever etched in my mind.  I can remember the song that played on my tape player as I ran that quick errand.  And, I can remember the tears that flowed as I prayed a desperate prayer in those moments.  A prayer to surrender to the inevitable.  A prayer for strength as I came to terms with the loss that was coming.  Funny how peace and fear and grief can all coexist as I accepted what was to come.  And, come it did.  At about 4 am on Monday, May 14th.  I can only remember being awakened to come quickly to my dad's room down the hall.  I can't recall Daddy's face or anything else but that blasted blood pressure instrument above his bed.  The one that sat at 0.  And I knew.  I knew my sweet Daddy had just been ushered into the presence of His Savior.  

In the months and years since, I've come to learn what it means to be held.  Like the incredible song I often hear with similar lyrics...when you survive your worst nightmare, clinging desperately to the Lord.  You come to learn what it means to be held.  Because the unimaginable becomes your reality.  The pain is at first numbing, and then overwhelming.  But, still.  You are held.  You wrestle and beat against your Heavenly Father's chest, screaming out in anguish.  But, still.  You are held.  You feel limp from the exhausting journey of grief.  But, still.  You are held.