Today has been a rough one. The kids and I have had an awesome few weeks since school got out for summer, but today… it was the exception. Jeb peed his pants, Belle spilled her milk, Faulkner escaped, Matt came home sick, Belle threw up, Estella Dru broke her Operation game and boo-hooed, I lost my insulin pen, my laundry pile grew like mad while I wasn’t looking, and Estella Dru just came in and said, “Mama, I need to tell you something. You need to clean the bathroom, you know.” I am overwhelmed today, and I want to sit and cry. Correction: I did sit and cry. I cried and told God I feel like a loser and that my head might explode at any moment. And I’m not ashamed to admit it either. Sometimes I think that’s exactly what we need to do--to pour out our hearts and just feel what we're feeling. And it reminded me….
When Grandpa was in ICU in SMRMC in Russellville a few weeks ago, I had the same sort of moment. The doors to the ICU wing are at the end of a long hallway, and as I rounded the corner and that hallway came into view, I realized I had not seen that place since the day Grandma died. It was surreal and honestly stole my breath. Matt was with me, so I tried to play it cool. I kept walking, but my heart was literally beating out of my chest. And then we walked through the doors and into the ICU—the place where she died, where I held her hand and whispered in her ear until I knew she was in Heaven. I came close to losing it. But I was there to see Grandpa. So I smiled and hung out with him for an hour until they kicked us out.
But the next day, when I was alone, I went back. I found the exact spot on the floor where, seconds after Grandma died, I came out of the ICU doors and fell on my face. And I sat there. I sat there and just let myself feel it. It may sound weird or crazy, but for me, at that moment, it’s exactly what I needed to do. I cried and prayed and thanked God for her again and just soaked up that memory, as painful as it was. And maybe even crazier, I left there with a settled heart.
Sometimes I think we just have to feel it—to not pretend life is perfect and be ok with the rough parts. That’s what I am doing today, and it’s what I did on the floor at St. Mary’s. And it’s ok. I think it’s incredible that any place can be a “most holy place.” A dirty hospital floor, the carpet beside my bed—anywhere I come to Him and bare my heart, broken or singing, that’s where He meets me.
And so, dear brothers and sisters, we can boldly enter heaven’s most holy place because of the blood of Jesus. By his death, Jesus opened a new and life-giving way through the curtain into the most holy place. And since we have a great high priest who rules over God’s house, let us go right into the presence of God with sincere hearts fully trusting him. For our guilty consciences have been sprinkled with Christ’s blood to make us clean, and our bodies have been washed with pure water. Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise. -Hebrews 10:19-23
5 days ago