February 11
One of the hardest things to come to terms with is that life moves on.
Have you ever been stranded on the side of the road? I have maybe once or twice. When your car breaks down, a tire blows, or something happens that forces you to stop, it’s interesting how quickly perspective changes. Suddenly, you’re not a traveler. You’re a bystander, an audience. The speed limit feels a lot faster when you’re standing still. Other travelers pass you by with the sure thought that you’ll find help, somehow. And where you once took for granted the car that moved you down the road, you realize how fragile it is. Maybe you think of how “unlucky” you are. But mostly you just watch the passing vehicles and wish that you could get back out there. You’ve got places to go, things to do, people to see.
When our car sputtered to a stop on November 29, there was a multitude of fellow travelers who stopped to help us. Some took a look under the hood. Others sat and kept us company. And others gave a sympathetic glance and wave as they passed by. It was nice. We mostly enjoyed the company and were glad to know that travelers might willingly stop just to be present with us. As the days and weeks have gone on, though, our fellow travelers have slowly given their best wishes, goodbyes, and continued on to their destinations. Every once in a while, a traveler pulls in behind us just to make sure that we’re okay. We nod and send them on their way.
There’s no need for them to stay.
Dear friends and family,
Lynne and I want you to know that we’re okay. We’re still not moving. We’re still broken down. But we understand why, and we understand why you must travel on.
I wish that I could tell you that this has gotten easier since November 29. Maybe it has in some ways, and I just haven’t realized it. But as we go through our days, our thoughts don’t stray far from our little girl and the wrecking thought that she’s not here anymore. Sometimes it’s enough to paralyze us. Other times Lynne and I see each other through our tears and remember that we’re held in the loving arms of Jesus. But the pain is still real, and you would have to do a lot of convincing to show me that it will be gone in a few years.
At some point, though, we’ll start moving again. We’ll see the road again as a traveler. We’ll stop and meet others who have broken down, and because we were once there ourselves, we’ll know how to keep them company. But until then, there’s more to be learned here, and we’re looking to Jesus to show us. He is giving us things that we need for the journey ahead. We’re not able to leave just yet.
So every so often, pull aside and see how we’re doing. Join us as we watch the road. It’s a different perspective. We’d be glad to tell you about it. We’d be glad to tell you about Annie. But after it’s all said and done, don’t worry about traveling on. We’ll be okay.
