I've always had this pie in the sky idea of what a Sunday should be...go to church with your family, eat a big Sunday dinner, take a walk in the sunshine, rock on the porch before supper...growing up in a family of six, I know that the reality is someone will usually be crying because they can't find their shoes in time for Sunday School and someone else will "accidently" whack their brother in the face and have to be sent away from the table during Sunday dinner...but I even looked forward to the realities of having a family of my own one Sunday down the road. Sundays are just made for family.
Since Rip's death, Sundays have been...I hesitate to say hard...hard is a word used for running a race or finishing a test, I've always associated the word hard with acccomplishing something...Sundays have been lonely.
I am lonely for what I thought I was starting and was not to be.
After a loss like mine, people will tell you that they know you will have children one day. As much as you want to believe them, you first instinct is to think, how do you know? And the truth is, they don't...they can't...I can't. Nobody can know what is going to happen tomorrow...that's where faith has to come in to play.
At some point, I am going to have to start to have faith. I am going to have to let go of the lonely and the sad and the afraid and have faith. I am going to have to have faith that one Sunday down the road someone will be crying because they lost their shoes, and someone will be in their room because they whacked their brother in the face at the dinner table.
Maybe not this Sunday, but some Sunday, I will let go and have faith.