Yesterday a particular picture caught my eye. You see, I have snapshots from across the years tucked into the frames of the kitchen and laundry room cabinets. Reminders to my children of the joyous moments they have had with family and friends. This particular picture was before their time . . . it was the photo from the first Christmas card my husband and I sent out as a married couple. There we were hunkered down in front of God’s greenery each lovingly holding a beagle with an arm wrapped around our Rottweiler who was seated between us. So many memories in that picture of trying to get all three pups to look at the camera and to keep from blinking in the sun; choosing our outfits so we were coordinated; the Christmas card – almost a right of passage as an adult. I had to resist thinking “and from that picture I am the only one left.”
Before I let the sadness in too far I looked at our young faces; at the innocent grins. We had the world at our doorstep and a bright future of adventure. We had endless possibilities.
The bible makes many references to the possibilities granted us through God:
Matthew 19:26 “And looking at them Jesus said to them, “With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”
Luke 1:37 “For nothing will be impossible with God.”
Mark 9:23 And Jesus said to him, ” ‘If You can?’ All things are possible to him who believes.”
And yet here I am and the possibility of being together on Christmas just doesn’t seem possible. And yet it IS. The presence of my husband is ALWAYS in my heart. The pictures, the memories, the traditions . . . he is part of all of them. God has made this possible. He has given me the gift of time; He has given me the capacity of memory; He has given my two amazing girls whose eyes reflect their daddy everyday. If we can only open our eyes, if we can look past the grief to what we still have we will realize how many blessings we have. Count your blessings first. Count your endless possibilities. You may find that the list is so long that you don’t have time to count your grief.