One hundred eighteen days and counting…
I’m feeling extremely saddened today due to another family’s sorrow. Recently there has been a tragedy involving wonderful people I know and love, and the overwhelming sense of pain is almost more than any heart can handle. Watching people suffer grief associated with loss is horrific. My personal experience with grief comes from a very different situation, and although I cannot begin to imagine the same type of suffering I see unfolding around me, I do know what it is to lose and suffer painful circumstances.
My heartbreaking loss stems from miscarriage, stillbirth, and infertility. I know what I’m about to say seems laughable, but I’m going to say it anyway. I had a plan for my life! Guess what? The plan did NOT include turbulent heartache. My entire story is in my book. This is how “A Girl on the doorstep” was birthed.
The other day I gave a slight preview of my experience with a “crying-the-blues-birthday.” There is no way to recount my 30th birthday other than to say it hurt. It wasn’t painful because I was beginning signs of aging, or because I thought my youth was over. I ached, because I had grieved serious losses. From a selfish standpoint, my life plan was not falling into place as I saw fit. I was learning a hard lesson concerning control: I had none.
As I stand on the doorstep and prepare to cross the threshold into 40, I am beginning yet another journey: A journey where I share my story with someone who needs it the most. Sometimes we have nothing to hold but hope.
Where do you find hope?
