In this waiting space, most of my thoughts don’t end with a conclusion. I have started so many hope-laced fragments that have lacked an ending, but not direction.
Each night as I settle in, I find myself so far from where I start. Some days, nothing can kill my hope, and others, I fall asleep exhausted from weathering the instability of a worried soul. Lysa Terkuersrt, says it best when she says: this is news, this is not truth.
If we are all the clay, meant for God to shape, molding our stubborn hearts takes water. Water is physically born in our salty, cleansing tears. Through daily surrender to our smallness and stepping out bravely, despite the lack of clarity of what is waiting: what better can shape a soul?
I do not know what is going to happen, but I do remember that the scariest part of losing Darla was feeling like my heart stood poised to harden. It required a daily commitment of remaining soft to renew the potential for joy in this world that had betrayed me.
The name Cooper means worker, and Gabriel is God’s messenger. What a beautiful mission awaits a hard worker with a story to tell. The world will try and extinguish a light like this. But we match our hope with our truth.
We watch our sweet son hang on, despite all the reasons for him not to. We cherish this hard worker with a story to tell. We adjust our expectations from earthly to purposeful, so that he can live out the will of the One who shaped him.
I am not going to stand by as a victim of all this pain. Balancing anxiety with hope is a worthy fight, and I am stirring inside more than ever. This story continues daily, and I can’t look away too long.
For now, these are the best words I have:
Today, things are ok.
Always, things will be well.
The truth is that all things will work together for unimaginable joy.
And joy too big to imagine is too perfect to miss.