Yesterday was a good day. Yesterday was a hard day.
I woke with a physical ache in my chest, and it followed me all through the rainy, cold day. I sang songs, I breathed deeply, I spoke truth, I prayed. And still, the pain.
Because you know what? I don’t want to be buying slippers to keep my daughter’s feet warm during chemo. I don’t want to search for hats to keep her head covered when her beautiful, soft curls fall out. I don’t want this next year to be filled with pain.
I walked into the warmth of my home and felt some relief. I hugged my husband hard. I marveled at the kindness of friends, filling our home with flowers and food and love. I listened to my children and the language of family. I watched my daughter laugh.
But in the end I cried. I cried and my daughters held me. I cried and it was better.
God is not disappointed with us when we cry. He remembers our frame. He keeps count of our tossings. He puts our tears in a bottle.
It’s okay to cry.
“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle.” (Psalm 56:8)