Flighty Little Birds, Jagged Around the Edges

I have this candle that smells like one of my most favorite people in the world.

I'm not sure how it's possible that this came to be.  One day, about a month ago, I was milling around Sesame and Lilies, the home decor store I used to work at when I lived in Cannon Beach, and I picked up a large candle in a grey, hobnail jar. I brought it to my nose.  I wondered for a moment what "Ambergrass" was supposed to smell like, and then I took a whiff.

Instantly, familiarity washed over me.  I knew that scent very well.  It smelled like wishes, right before they are granted.  It was the same smell that used to follow me around while grocery shopping, or riding in that car.  It smelled like being held in a warm, tight hug.  It smelled mildly like peaches, but earthier than that.  It was the same smell that accompanied the voice which soundtracked my Summer, to quote that crazy-good Boys Like Girls song from 4 years ago.

I don't know if I bought the candle because the smell reminded me of this person, or if I bought the candle because the familiarity of the smell was comforting- but somehow, it ended up coming home with me that day.

And right now it's perched next to me, lit.  One small beam of light to combat a world of darkness.

Lovers,  sometimes we forget how precious life is.

Sometimes, we forget that death is a constant and inescapable part of our lives.

One of my dearest friends, Natalie Trust, writes about this very topic in her blog.  It's titled, "Death's Waiting Room," and you can read it here. Please do so.

Lovers, there is a story behind all of this to share- but it is not mine to tell.  And so I will not tell it today. But I will write a few vague sentences- even if just for the sake of personal catharsis.

There are many thoughts in my brain that do not align in a logical pattern.  Mostly they are whirring around like flighty little birds, jagged around the edges.  They are afraid to settle in one place for too long, because they might become stagnant.  They might become flightless, and by loosing their wings, they might grow even more scarred.

Memory, that rose-tinted creature, flies from one branch to another restlessly bringing up images and nostalgia with every fluttered movement- Fact, that cold-hearted mistress screeches from the tops of her tiny little lungs unforgivable curses as she flies in endless circles- Hope, that bedraggled white dove, coos softly in the midst of the squalor.  Often her voice is overpowered- but it is still present. Her patient heart is still beating steadily.

What do you do when someone you've always known as a permanent fixture in your life suddenly becomes frighteningly temporary?

All I have floating around in my brain are words- and words are so blatantly empty today.

Words have the power to break people- and yet, rarely do they actually possess the power to bring comfort.  Where is the comfort to be found in a violently angry murderess that lives and grows within our very bloodstreams?  Where is the hope to be found in a pungent blackness that devours from the inside out?

My words are muted, today.  My arms are tired from wrestling with angels, like Jacob in the book of Genesis.

My heart is heavy. This small hammock of tragedy in which I sit today is cradling me so carefully, so effortlessly.  I wonder if I could just lie back and let it carry me, how far would we travel together?

It's strange, watching your beloveds go through the motions of realizing they might loose someone beloved to them. It makes that person, while still a familiar, cherished, loved and more-than-welcomed part of your own life, all that more special and precious to you.

I realized today just how sacred every breath is.

Sacred. 

Every breath.

Human life is the most priceless thing on this planet, my own best friend reminded me today.  How careless of me to have forgotten.

Through it all, I continue to ask my Heavenly Father where He is in all of this.

Father, God.  Where are you?

I know your sovereignty.  I know your omniscience.  I just don't have the Kingdom eyes to see your plan; I am made of bone and sinew and my weak heart is full of doubt and I lack understanding.

Still, Lord- I stand.  Just as all of those around me and all of those involved and all of those grieving alongside each other tonight are standing.  In the light and hope of our God and Savior- knowing that He is also standing for us.  Knowing that He is not absent, or removed, or uncaring, unfeeling.

Knowing that He is full of healing, and mercy and miracles and undying love for each one of His earthly children, and that His heart is also breaking under the extreme weight of this recent news.

How blessed are we.

To have a Savior who's heart breaks over the tragedies which befall His prized children. To know that not only does He have all control of the situation, but He also understands and comprehends exactly how these tragedies make us feel.

He is breath-taking, and we are all made in His image.  When I envision the face which this tragedy belongs to, I see the beautiful Imago Dei bursting forth from those grace-filled features, clothed in dignity and righteousness.

So tonight, the tears may fall.

But the Almighty is still good.

This grief-laden hammock is comfortable, but it is not permanent.

Tomorrow is a new day, and for those of us who live to see the morning light- there will be so many moments in which to give thanks throughout the day.  Don't let the opportunity to thank God for the sacredness of breath pass you by.

I love you.  I love you.  I love you.