Caught In The Rain
The past few months have passed in a gray haze; the hands of the clock spiral quickly around, seeming to increase in speed exponentially. I find myself looking into the eyes of a five-year-old child where a helpless baby used to be.
Five years.
March marks five years since Alex came into my life and turned it upside down. The irresponsible, reckless, fearless woman that was once me was replaced by a woman with a purpose, a dream, and a priceless responsibility. That new woman is so drastically different from the old one, that the old one is a distant memory. The change was so drastic that my then-husband no longer recognized me…. but neither did I. Our paths no longer coincided; his went in a different direction, but I knew my calling.
I was a mother now.
The past three years have been harder than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life; without the kindness of friends, family, and perfect strangers, I say I couldn’t make it through… but I would have. For the sake of my daughter, I would make it through on sheer force; when the duct tape no longer worked, brute will would hold it together. It’s been a challenge for me; God likes to remind me that I’m not in control. Never has that become more obvious until he placed this miracle in my life.
But with the challenges and the hardships have also come an unspeakable love, unwavering strength, and renewed faith. When you lose enough, you start to realize that life-changing risks aren’t so scary anymore. I find myself WANTING to jump, where in the past, I’d cower as far away from the edge as possible. Those success stories, when you hear about people who fail miserably or lose everything before they make it big; I can relate now. I’ve lost everything twice in my life, and look! I survived! I keep coming out better each time, too… maybe I’m not a financial powerhouse yet, but the friends I’ve made and the experiences that these paths have led me to, I can’t tell you how amazing the journey has been so far! And I know, I KNOW that some really hard times are in my future… possibly my near future… and yet I’m not afraid anymore. Of course, I have my moments, but I know that with every valley comes another peak. And I’ve even learned to embrace the lows; never do I sleep more soundly until grief completely wreaks havoc. You cry, you sob, you scream, you throw: then you sleep, a quiet, dark, dreamless sleep, and when the light comes in the morning, you may have puffy eyes, but it’s a little easier.
But the time…. it just keeps getting faster. And each moment is more precious, yet harder and harder to hold on to. Today, she’s almost five. Tomorrow, almost 25.
Hold on, hold on, hold on.