Easter

It’s a little strange to be starting on “seconds” without Mom.  This Easter is quite different than last year. Last year I knew I was leaving DC for San Diego but didn’t have any idea what the summer would hold.  I was simply hanging on for dear life, waiting rather impatiently for April 30 when I could start my drive west.  This year I live in Rexburg with the path of the next year pretty well laid out.  April 30 is just April 30–no trek west–and I’m no longer hanging on for dear life.  In fact, I feel more peace in my heart now than I ever have.  What a distance I’ve covered in a year.  It’s rather remarkable and very appropriate that I record these feelings on this day.

Last year I clung to the spirit of Easter that encompassed the resurrection, praying and hoping that it was true, that I would in fact see Mom again someday and that we would live together forever.

This year I find myself giving constant thanks for the other part of Easter, the healing power of the atonement.  The change, the healing has been so remarkable and profound that I have found myself echoing Enos’ question, “Lord, how is it done?”   I wish I could open my heart and let you all see what has happened.  It is beyond any miracle I ever thought was possible.  Not only is the wound of grief constantly healing, my trust in God continues to grow, my understanding of His ways expands, and my willingness to submit comes with a feeling of peace that I have only read about and wanted but never quite felt.

I have had to pay a dear price.  The loss of my best friend.  6 months of pretty intense counseling.  Tearful prayers. Months of anger and sorting.  A willingness to do things I didn’t want to do.  A willingness to trust God again. A willingness to change.  But at the end of the day none of that alone was enough.  It was all important; I have learned so much, and continue to learn, through this process.  But in the end, the healing and peace has come through the power of the atonement.

I have been cautious about this new development, wondering if the other shoe is going to drop and when.  But as each day passes and new trials are thrown at me, it’s as if it’s a different person riding this rollercoaster of life.  Yes, there are frustrations, there are hard days, there are moments when I wonder what I’m doing.  But there is a new baseline of profound peace and with it comes a new feeling of gratitude.

I’m so grateful Christ didn’t give up on me this past year when I felt ready to give up on Him. And if He didn’t give up on me this last year, I know He never will.

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