the inside

I got to meet with some of our 'forever family' yesterday. For the first time in months and months. It was like taking a big gasp of air after being underwater for far too long.

Our church is kind of small and humble. It's got some broken, real people. Like me. And it was so good to be there in person and get to sing alongside others worshipping Jesus, and next to my boys who cuddled close to my legs during the worship time. To sit together as a family was sweet and so comforting. My beautiful friend Em came and joined us halfway through, and to feel encased in love after being tucked away in my own sick world for so long was especially lovely.

And just being there together was enough to refresh my soul. It was good. And I felt ridiculous for all the times over the years that I have resented going to church because of various things ranging from tiredness to not wanting to front up to having to be authentic with people after a particularly difficult week. It just felt a little silly. My perspective has changed since not being able to go for most of this year. I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder.

But today it's been the little moments that have made me catch my breath, and at the times I'm least prepared for it. Just in the middle of normal I'll feel my stomach give way, and I go from being all normal to being all 'cancer-y'.

I dropped off Soul to my mum and dad's for the day, and just in the middle of talking about photos and how to get them off my computer I just felt myself spinning out. And it was the bolt of lightning to my heart saying that all of it is for nothing because all my effort is in vain to capture memories. Huz won't do all of that after I'm gone, my boys won't have albums all neatly lined up of year after year of memories. It is all for naught.

And my heart writhed in me while I pretended to be normal and discuss photo storage options, but my soul was faint with the realisation.

Another thing I can't control.

Another area of my life and priorities that will crumble as soon as I am gone.

Somehow I can't get used to how shocking this all is. This letting go. This gradual, hair pulling, nail biting, deep hallow sickness that weasels its way inside my insides. 

It's the inside of my insides that hurts.

And there's no denying the power of the grave in those moments, because all seems lost. All is lost. When I cease to go on so will every single priority I have ever set, every dream I have ever dreamt, every song I have sung, every word I have spoken. All gone. Done and dusted.

But all is not over. The Jesus in me will raise me from the dead just as He was raised, and I will go on to be with Him in the sweetest place I can dream. This heaven is more real than this earth. And there I will be.

And I bet I won't be thinking about my lost photo albums then.

Today I'm asking myself if Jesus is enough. If He's really enough for me. Enough in the face of lost dreams and futures and photo albums and moments I imagined were mine for the taking but have been snatched away. 

Is He really enough? And He's come to me before and reminded me that He is, but I'm needing the reminder again. A fresh one, because the inside of my insides needs to hear it. I need to know He's enough for me, enough for this life and the next, and enough for my boys. 

More than enough.