Falling and Dancing...

I meant to write a post on the week of October 20th because that day marks three years since mom went home to heaven. I planned to tell you of the beauty of the drive we travelled along the river, to stay with her in the hospice center, as the trees exploded during the last couple weeks of her life with a rainbow of colors. I even thought of taking that familiar path and photographing the beauty so that I could share it with you. But, I didn't take the drive. Instead I'm sharing some flowers that my friend, Tracy sent to me in memory of mom...flowers with all the colors of fall...just like the ones in God's painting the day He took her home.

It is an amazing annual display...better than any painting created by man's hand. God's artwork, His glory displayed in full splendor. It was a symphony of color for the eyes as she left this earth. Each year, since she has gone, I notice it more profoundly...the last hurrah before the stark contrast of winter. During that week in October, an explosion of color...and just a few short weeks later...almost all the leaves have fallen.

Of course, the demands of life kept me from posting...and truth be told, there are several other things I should be doing right now instead of writing what is on my heart. But, even delaying this post, it has been on my mind. And, I know how this works...it won't leave my mind,until I have written it. So, here I am in all my frazzled, tired, overstretched, imperfect glory.

I have been thinking of how I was really just learning to dance, learning to celebrate the joy of being a new creation, just finding out the freedom that lies in complete surrender to the Lord. Three years ago, I felt so blessed that my cup runneth over. God had restored my joy after saying good-bye to our babies, restored my family, blessed us with a love that comes as beauty is made from ashes, blessed us with a ministry. He had blessed my relationship with my mother and restored all of our brokenness. My heart was healed in many ways. And, I was learning to dance.

Then, she left in the midst of the symphony of autumn beauty...and I drove home along the river road that night, exhausted, numb, grateful that her suffering was finally over, grateful for the promise of heaven, and having no idea the ache that lie ahead for my heart. I had no idea how hard it would be to keep on dancing without her.

The leaves started to fall the next week. I thought of the bitter irony...how the leaves are allowed to be at their most spectacular just before they fall silently to the ground in an anticlimactic end. Then, I thought that I could relate to the leaves. I had just begun to dance again, really for the first time, in many ways. And, then I started to fall.

The ache I feel for her washes over me anew with each passing season. The missing is with me daily. Even moments of precious joy are clouded with her absence. That doesn't mean that I don't feel joy...or that I don't trust in the Lord and His promises. I do. But, for the past three years, I have been doing more falling than dancing.

Don't get me wrong, there is beauty even in the falling...for when we fall, we are caught in the arms of a loving Savior. We are comforted in our sorrow by a compassionate Father. We are carried by the hands of a mighty God. I read these words from the heart of a grieving mother (Once a Mother) recently, and they struck a cord in my heart. I encourage you to read her incredible description of the falling. She ends her beautiful poem with these words: The beauty of life, too, can be found, in those moments that are out of our control. In those moments we fear most. In the falling.

I remember the times that I have found beauty in surrender...falling on faith as I stood on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by fog, taking the next step to where I could not see if He would catch me or not. There is beauty...great beauty in falling into His waiting arms. It is a place I have walked. And He has never failed to catch me. And, there is a time for falling.

Still...I haven't been dancing much...not like I was before she left. My blog-friend, Lynnette is a wonderful dancer. And, her way of dancing through life is a way that I share in my heart. It is a way I have known well...a way of living that I believe God has for us. Yet...lately, I haven't been acting on it.

My mother was just learning to dance when He took her home. I had been dancing for a little while when she left. Her dance was perfected in heaven's glory...and she dances still. As for me...I don't think it was in the plan for me to stop dancing. I'm not saying I have stopped, but...there's been sort of a limp in my step. I know some of that is just the missing of someone so dear to me, and I'm not trying to mask the missing.

It's just that I think it might be time to start dancing again. If she can see me from heaven, she and my sweet babes...I think they would agree that it's time to dance again. And, I bet my Father in heaven...the One who created me for dancing would take great pleasure in seeing me dance.

So, I am praying and venturing in with tender steps...hoping to learn a new dance...and knowing that even as I type these words, God has a plan to teach me the most beautiful steps yet...