keeping awake

My heart is so filled right now that I don't know if my fingers will type fast enough! I don't really have an agenda for this entry, although I know sometimes that lends itself to authenticity that otherwise might be missing from my words. I have to confess, as my little girl plays in the next room and "Robin Hood" blares from the television, I am hardly in a place that I would've expected to generate anything remotely coherent in my writing. Still, the words come of their own accord and I find that rarely will they return if I don't stop to set them free...

I know many of you check this daily, wondering what we're up to... what we feel... how we are coping. I want you to know that after August 3 (a date I remember vividly, as it was right before my birthday and also the worst I've had thus far), the Lord has quite literally been carrying me. The words sound contrived, I know. And perhaps, were I standing in some other season in life, I might doubt their possibility. All I can tell you is that I am doing well. Sad, yes. Disappointed. Still fragile. And scared of where we are headed. But somehow, the last few weeks have been not only tolerable but in a way, quite like "normal" living. I don't know if you would categorize this as emotional numbness. Maybe. I have told Conor that I am often sure God means to give me a "break" for a little while before the true struggle begins - the calm before the storm. Perhaps. I do know that He is leading the way into battle, so despite the quaking in my spirit and the weight of my own weariness, I will follow Him, if for no other reason than because my own fear drives me toward Him, unsure of the darkness I will face if I even attempt to turn away.

Thank you for the cards and the e-mails and the phone calls. I've met some of you for the first time since this journey began, and as I tell our story, your eyes well with tears. I am in awe at your tenderness, at how God somehow gives us the ability to feel for others when we haven't walked down similar roads. It is one of the mysteries of the human heart that I don't think all the science in the world will ever decipher; there is no reason for true compassion other than the Creator. These encounters are what keep my spirits bolstered. To have Copeland remembered is precious to me. This must be how our Father feels! I am convinced - because even I feel this way - that He is unconcerned with our words, unconcerned even if they are clumsy or insensitive. I believe He simply wants us to remember His Son. Even this morning, as I was brushing my teeth, I uttered a silent prayer that I have no idea how He intends to answer - "Keep my heart tender enough not to forget You." When Jesus prayed before His death, "Father take this cup from me," His disciples - His best friends - were a short distance away, sleeping. Though it was their sorrows that had driven them to exhaustion, even then, Jesus asked them to remain awake so that they would not fall into temptation. Perhaps there is a temptation in sorrow, a small enticement toward sin in our own grief. Perhaps it is the temptation to dwell so much on the heartache in our own situations that we forget the Lord.

Please keep praying. Pray we, too, will be equipped to remain awake. That we will not give sway to the deep emotions that will surely cause our world to rock in the next short weeks and months. Pray we will remember that truth does not dwell in the way we feel. Pray we will be kept from the temptation to spoil Sellers in the enormous desire to medicate our own grieving hearts. Pray that Conor will be prepared, even without realizing it, to lead us through the fire. Pray we will be united in our marriage and as parents, that Satan will have no foothold in our relationship at any moment. Pray that the time we have with Copeland will be blessed, precious, and that the Lord will take her home quickly, that our hearts will not be trampled with the agony of wondering, for too long, when her moment will come.

We love you all...