📷 Katy Roberts 2016
✍️cdj 2020
During one of my most desperate days of covid, my blood pressure and heart rate rocketed and richocheted, and I secretly wondered if I would make it through the night. In the darkness of isolation I lay silently blinking away hot tears. My mind was calm and fearless even though my body felt frantic and frail. My soul was oddly at peace.
I low-key texted my older kids and intentionally made amends for some recent revelations, asked forgiveness, and told them how much I loved them. I made sure to speak to the younger ones before they went to bed and to affirm the wonder I see in each of them.
There wasn't anything I felt like I needed to say to Philip. Considering my dad died in the middle of a sentence during our second year of marriage, we've always done our best to remain up to date, in right standing, and with nothing fruitful left unsaid. (It's a great idea to keep the unfruitful stuff unsaid as often as possible ha!) So our regular hug and prayer good night was sweetly sufficient.
The next morning I realized I was still breathing. Still and breathing while solitude persisted through another dawn. My body had found the calm of my soul, and my mind awakened to clarity. Tears spilled onto my pillow as conviction and gratitude filled my consciousness.
The night before I had not given one thought toward my place of work, or my house of worship. I hadn't reached out to any friends or worried over regrets. I certainly had no concerns for household duties or pastime pursuits. I had simply offered love to my family.
If, when faced with the possibility of death, they proved to be my pure priority, then as long as I live, shouldn't they remain as much?
Dear God, thank You for today, for breath, for truth, for healing, for love. It's all from and through and in and to You. Help me order my affections so that loving my people stays a close second to loving You.
