I'm not even sure how to begin today's post. All week I have been thinking of the excitement I could portray to all of you about my upcoming break from school, my visit with Charming, my getting to see my family. And of course Christmas.
But then Friday hit.
And it one swift move a part of me broke.
Tragedy has struck my family, and the result is that one of my cousin's sons is no longer with us.
And I don't know how to deal with this.
I have not been back to Ontario where most of my extended family is in almost fifteen years. So I have never actually met this young man. And maybe that is partly why my heart is breaking. Because now I never will.
This morning I opened my curtains and discovered it was snowing. There are some forboding skies and a very light dusting of snow that is kissing the tops of buildings and the ground. It is beautiful. And as I see the white covering all of the grey I am reminded that there is hope. The grey of living up here will never disappear; it's part of the structure and design of my school. But for now the snow brightens it... just a little. I know it will melt soon and I will be stuck with my gloomy surroundings. But eventually summer will come. The grey won't disappear, but flowers will bloom and leaves will clothe the trees.
Honestly? I have nothing else I can say right now. All I can do is ask that you would keep my whole family in your prayers.
But then Friday hit.
And it one swift move a part of me broke.
Tragedy has struck my family, and the result is that one of my cousin's sons is no longer with us.
And I don't know how to deal with this.
I have not been back to Ontario where most of my extended family is in almost fifteen years. So I have never actually met this young man. And maybe that is partly why my heart is breaking. Because now I never will.
This morning I opened my curtains and discovered it was snowing. There are some forboding skies and a very light dusting of snow that is kissing the tops of buildings and the ground. It is beautiful. And as I see the white covering all of the grey I am reminded that there is hope. The grey of living up here will never disappear; it's part of the structure and design of my school. But for now the snow brightens it... just a little. I know it will melt soon and I will be stuck with my gloomy surroundings. But eventually summer will come. The grey won't disappear, but flowers will bloom and leaves will clothe the trees.
Honestly? I have nothing else I can say right now. All I can do is ask that you would keep my whole family in your prayers.
Thanks for posting this Jess. I haven't quite known how to deal with the death either, but somehow there is an irrational comfort in fresh snow kissing the dead grey of concrete. God speaks in mysterious ways, and fortuntately he sometimes does this in impressions we feel rather than words we understand.
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