It’s strange the way those terrible and tragic things that you just knew would kill you, become just a memory. How fear grips you in those moments of darkness and you cannot see or imagine ever coming out.
The first time I recall feeling broken, I was sitting in my kitchen floor. It was a cold, dingy yellow tile and it caught my tears as my world seemed to fall in on me, pushing down so hard I couldn’t stand. It was my first heartbreak. The first burn of goodbye. Empty drawers and closets, and last words were all that swirled around in my head. I never knew a pain like that, and never wanted to again, but as life goes…I would.
This time it was death. Oh God, what a new level of pain that was introduced to me. I curled up in her cold bed, and all I could do was moan. Deep angish from the pit of my belly. And it wasn’t long after, that this same pain returned with the loss of another. Wounds that had just begun to heal were suddenly ripped open once again.
And I had never felt more alone.
You would think a heart would be like the other muscles. You would think that after being broken down so much that eventually it would come back stronger. With the ability to endure more. But it doesn’t. As I would soon find myself on another floor and it too was cold.
Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe my recollections of the cold is simply because my heart stopped beating.
Nevertheless, I was down again. In the fetal position on my bathroom floor. My body clenched with pain. Unable to breathe for the kick in my gut from another goodbye. Altogether different from the other pain, yet a pain all its own. This one was as cruel and wicked as the betrayal it rode in on. And God was the only one who could save me from it. And He did.
I look back and I can remember vividly how each one felt. I can almost feel the sick aching that each one brought. And I recall the deep impact those events had on my perception, and the belief that I would never make it through, that I would never get up…off of those floors or out of that bed…
here I stand.
Heart still beating.
Face toward the sun.
And they say don’t look back, but I have to disagree. How else will you see how far you’ve come?