Reblogged from beaty-riska
(Source: sallyintheskywithdiamonds, via whereyournameiswritten)
Today it was Mothers’ Day.
My brother and I went to the cemetery, which I generally hate. It reminds me of the gravedigger scene in Hamlet.
But it also reminded me of Ezekiel. I don’t know. Like, God alone is the ruler of life and death, he gives and takes away, to remind us that his plan is bigger than we know.
We talked about what-ifs and life journeys. How God gives us struggles to teach us, so that we can help others. How God has used us through this.
After five years, I realized it doesn’t get any less sad. Though she has missed so much, it usually seems like no time has passed.
But sometimes…it almost makes sense.
God’s plan isn’t a punishment. He molds me through it.
So, I damn well better act as though I have a purpose. Who am I to question why he made me this way, anyway?
Then I realized that scene in Hamlet can be more than just morbid. It’s kinda beautiful.
Because bones are just bones, it’s true. And, as Hamlet so existentially laments, our memories paint feeble pictures.
But. My God gives breath to the dead, and purpose to the living.
Um. Cool.
Happy Mothers’ Day, Mama.
1 Thes. 4:16.
(Source: imsomethingoriginal, via note-scribbles)
