The Forever Scar

A few weeks ago I wrote about a fox. The next day as I sat in a Barnes and Nobel, there was a fox pictured on the wall. I barely noticed it. But when I did, it was the largest thing on the wall. Did it mean anything?

Tears. Even yesterday. Sobs overtook me when I thought of my little girls. I am missing so, so much of their lives. A part of me feels numb about it. A part of me sobs with wails that I have never before heard escape my mouth. I am missing their lives. I am missing it. And they are missing me.

And still. It is as if I am looking across the waves of the sea and once again I know the calling that I am supposed to do. So many people. So many hurting people. That is the only thing I can make sense from this pain - I am compelled to find purpose in this pain. It is for me. It is for my girls. It is for others. Yet in the midst of it, there's me. I stare at my own reflection. How have I been so brave up to this point? How have I put one foot in front of the other each day? And to be completely frank, I am in awe. I am actually quite stunned by my own strength.

I read stories of people who have lost their children in death. And I sob. Those children are never coming back. They will never have them in their arms again. And here am I. I will see my children again, I will hold them. But I still grieve. I have asked myself, "Is it okay to grieve when my children are still alive?" And the only answer that is correct is yes. It is my own pain. I cannot judge it, nor can anyone else.

This season - this season of only 4 days a month with my precious girls. As if I were derelict. Abusive. Horrible. Those labels would never, ever be used to describe me, not in a million lifetimes, not to a million people who know me. How could this have happened?? So much I want to say, but I have to wait. I have fought valiantly for the truth to be told. And now mere months and weeks remain. I have hope, strong assured hope that the tide will shift, but I will never have them full time again. That is the result of doing what I felt was the best thing for me, and for them. That decision will cost me seconds. It will cost me minutes. It will cost me days, weeks, months and years with those beautiful girls whose smiles light up an entire city. I will never get those back. But this choice, it was the best choice I knew to make. I couldn't model for them what I wouldn't ever want them to live. Out of integrity, I had to choose one hard place over another. In this case, aside from the peace of feeling carried by the hand of God and the people He put directly in my path as I walked this road, I had no soft place to land. And the grief, at times, is uncontrollable. But still, there is hope. 

I have learned and always still know - it will be okay. All will be well. I never lose sight of that hope and truth. Somehow that hope never dies in me. Yet, I am very much aware of the scar, that forever scar that will remain on my heart for the rest of my life. I have to be okay with that scar. Sometimes when the pain lifts, I am grateful for it. It will be there to always remind me of the preciousness of two beautiful little girls. It will be there to remind me of how short life is. It will be there to remind me that I only get 18 summers with them, summers that will disappear like the night sky. It will be there to remind me that life isn't always fair and that justice doesn't always prevail. It will be there to remind me of the seconds, hours, days and weeks I fought for my voice to be heard. It will be there to remind me of the women I now must walk alongside who will face the same road where my knees were bloodied. It will be there to remind me that sometimes the right choice will still leave scars on our hearts for years to come. And all will be well. It has to be well. All is well with our souls. ❤️