Fragile

What precious gifts we are given every day. 

I cannot count the number of times that Bryan has compared us to Adam and Cynthia in the past few days.  Before we came out to 'Mitland' (as she jokingly called it) last summer, he told me about their story.  Though they both experienced pain and suffering in their past, they found their way to each other.  Their true adoration of one another was apparent.  Even when Cynthia was telling Adam how it was, waggling her finger in his face, you could see that twinkle in her eyes.  He worshipped the ground she walked on.  Cynthia's family sings Adam's praises, knowing he was the perfect man for her and how he honored her.

My mind keeps wandering down these paths regarding regret and fear. 

So many times, we miss out on amazing opportunities because of fear.  We would rather stay safe and stagnant in our little coccoon.  Cynthia and Adam took a leap of faith, opened their hearts to someone, risking pain.  Because of that, they had a short time of happiness.  I found somewhere that the bible has the phrase 'fear not' 365 times, one for each day of the year.  God knows what we need, sometimes we just need His push.  When I think about taking a leap of faith, these lyrics come to mind: 'What if you jump and just close your eyes?  What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?'

Then we move on to regret.  The ones we hurt the most are the ones we love the most.  Misunderstandings can snowball into horrible situations, tearing friendships and families apart.  We, as prideful humans, find it so difficult to let bygones be bygones, to forgive.  A few weeks ago, Tiffany and I had a great lunch together.  She is in the phase of her recovery where she is making amends.  We talked about the things that had frightened me, we had some laughs and it was done.  All of this is making me think that it would be a great idea, for me personally, to do this at least once a year.  Of course, I'm such a non-confrontational person (read: chicken), that I would have to do all of mine in writing.  Talking through ugly crying is not easy for me.  All too often, we find ourselves in a situation where we don't have the opportunity to say goodbye, much less I'm sorry.  How painful to be stuck in that situation.  I've been going through my mental rolodex, searching for anyone that I need to reach out to.  Of course there is always Jason, he's at the forefront.  But there are others, much more minor grievances, but things that need to be set right.  And if they can't be set right, at least the apology needs to be made.  In the light of eternity, what does it matter who was right?  One of my glaring faults is that I hold onto my anger, my resentment, my hurts.  I will save emails, texts, letters so that I can whip them out at a later date and say, 'Look!  See?  This is what they said right here!'  My need to be right and to prove it to others can overwhelm me.  Obviously this is something that I need to work on.  How to go about that, I don't know.  But once all of this is over, I plan to sit down with my oh-so-patient husband and talk to him about it.

One of my favorite verses that kept popping up during my most chaotic time of life:
You number my wanderings;
Put my tears into Your bottle;
Are they not in Your book?
 - Psalm 56:8
It brings me great peace to know that God sees every tear I shed, knows every hurt I experience.  I imagine Him wincing like I do when one of our babies is hurt or sad.  I've been praying this verse over Cynthia's family all day.  I pray that He would somehow bring them peace during this time.

I hadn't seen Cynthia in over 20 years before last summer.  I confessed to Bryan that I was petrified to see her again.  I remembered her as 'Rocky', the super-tough girl that EVERYONE was afraid of.  As it turned out, we clicked immediately.  One of my favorite all-time memories is of the weekend we flew out here to pick up Adam's bike.  Bryan was amazed when I told him that she and I had shared some tears.  He told me that he couldn't remember ever seeing her cry.  Of course, she had been telling me about what Memaw and Pawpaw meant to her and what they had done for her during that conversation.  Cynthia loved her family, she would have fought tooth and nail for any one of them.  I'm thankful for the tiny bit of time that I had with her and I'm thankful that she was so encouraging when I started riding.  Cynthia was a very strong woman in so many ways.  I have a vision of her up there telling God (with her finger waggling in His face) that she needs to be placed on the front line fighting The Evil One.  None of this floating around playing a harp business for her!