Prisms

Yesterday was my Mom’s first birthday.

First, in that it was the first one she wasn’t here to celebrate.

Those of who who belong to the unfortunate fellowship know that the first time without is brutal. First birthday, anniversary, holiday; none come and go without leaving their mark.

The hope and prayer is one learns how to accept pain, allowing its bitter medicine to flow through you. It is going to be there regardless of any efforts to thwart or divert its arrival. Best one comes to acknowledge the icy talons as they grip you.

Pain can harden, but it can also soften. It cam embitter, but it can also empower empathy. We cannot control or prevent its presence. We can, however, by entrusting our hearts to the nail-pierced hands remain clear of its darkness, instead entering into the light of Christ’s love for which pain is a mirror.

Our tears are prisms through which we can see a hue unimaginable to the naked eye. In its color we can see we are never alone in our suffering. We can see past the sting and sorrow into a promised Tomorrow, paid for with His blood, in which the tears will be wiped away while the Light and love we saw through them remains for all eternity.

We grieve today. Tomorrow, we will rejoice.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you. See you when it’s time to come Home.