The end of myself.
As a woman, a human, a mother, a wife, a lover, a friend, a mom, a sister, a daughter, a granddaughter all that I give is at the end of myself.
The end of yourself, this is where tragic loss takes you. It leaves you gripping so tight for some sort of what was. What can I grip to, hold on to? Air, there is nothing to hold onto at the end of myself. At the end of myself, I am able to look back at who I am. I can see myself for what I am. I am not talking about some "pitiful me" state of mind, but an over abundant need for mercy state of mind. I now know that I can not rely on my circumstances for happiness. I did that for far too long. The right "man" would make me happy, the right house, the right dog, the right job, a big family, the perfect body, the perfect kid, on and on. With one tragic loss, with one phone call, with one moment, I found myself at the end of myself and my circumstances were just that...circumstances. I have no control...I HAVE NO CONTROL...III HHHAVVEE NOOO COOOONNNTTRRROOLL!!
"Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the teacher, "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless." Eccelesiastes 1:2
I searched for meaning for so long, so damn long. Always, I came up short. That was until I was forced to the end of myself. At the end of myself, with nothing left, and the "control factor" forced out, I begin to look into my soul. I begin to look up to the One, the very One who created my very being and shaped my existence. With my eyes wide open to the brokenness of this world I truly have no choice, there is no hope for me in this world. My hope runs deep through my being and into my soul. God has made Himself known. Tears begin to fall because I am in awe of the way my Abba unfolds the creases for me. He lifts my eyes, He holds my tears. He whispers divine hints. He brings my daughter to me in dreams when I need her most. He plants daisies for me. He maps out my world. He is my author and my perfecter of this immeasurable faith He has gifted me.
At the end of myself, how do I still have "stuff" to give. How do I continue and build relationships? I have no idea. I wonder sometimes if I am still in some sort of shock phase. I smile, somehow, I smile every day. When I smile, I think to myself "why in the world are you smiling Summer, you are not actually smiling". When I see a picture of my smile, I clearly see the result of that internal conversation refelcted in my smile. The ends of my lips do not curl up naturally like they used to, my brain takes longer to process that this is a "smiling situation". It happens, it happens a lot but it is not an easy task. At the end of myself even my smile is striped away.
When tragedy forced me to the end of myself, with nothing to hold onto, with everything that I had put my hope into shattered, I started shoving anchors into to every piece of ground I could. These anchors continually hold my soul in place through each and every body quivering storm.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek. Hebrews 6:19,20
I miss Keslie with every inch of my body. I miss being her mom. I miss pink. I miss peek a boo. I miss 4 am wake up calls. I miss laughter. I miss being needed. I miss changing her diapers. I miss rocking her to sleep. I miss her screams. I miss I miss I miss. At the end of myself I miss Kelsie.