It's a frigid day outside. The wind cut right through me as I ventured from the car to the inside of the grocery store this afternoon. The trees lay bare after cutting ties with their foliage, and the leaves scatter across the ground looking for a new home that will prove warmer than the yellowing grass or the gray, sullen, sidewalks. It's the time of year where we remember the warmth that was, and await the subzero chill that will take up residence with us for the next several months.
As the gloom of the gray sky hovers above, and as all nature has abandoned its beauty for the sake of survival, there is warmth in my soul. My cup runneth over.
Right now, Little Miss is sitting next to me sounding out words and reading on her own. Mostly. There's still a lot of, "Is this what it says?" and other verification taking place. Little Man is napping. Dinner is waiting to be made (turkey burgers with pesto and provolone...one of my favorites!). It will be a good evening.
I could sit here and list off several ways God has used others to bless, care for, and provide for us in the recent weeks. As I've been between jobs and not bringing in income, nothing we've done works on paper, but somehow, God has made a way. He has used people in varying ways to bless us abundantly. Some in ways I'll never be able to repay. Some people I don't even know how to thank, because they've blessed us anonymously. All in ways I never expected. All in ways we needed at the exact moment we needed them. My cup runneth over.
I recently was paired with a client through my virtual assistant position, and will begin logging hours for work with them in a couple of weeks. I'm not replacing the income I once had, but we're making strides in getting to a more comfortable position for our family, and I'm still able to stay home. To those who question why I haven't thrown in the towel and just gone back to corporate America, let me tell you about Little Miss' prayer a few nights ago. She prayed, "...and thank you that Mommy gets to be home and spend time with me." She followed up later with, "and help me and Mommy to spend more time together." She's four. She's full of sass. And she loves her mama. My cup runneth over.
I'm working to find some sort of schedule and balance that allows me to get it all done. The play time with kids, the mothering, the being an amazing wife, the work, the dishes, the laundry, the me-time. I know I can do it. I just need the help of a big calendar and lots of markers to make it happen. I know it's supposed to happen. My cup runneth over.
As we head in to the holiday season, which will forever bear a burden of incompleteness for our family, I have to remember that my cup runneth over. I have to remember how we are loved and cherished, and how He has provided for us in ways we never imagined. A year ago, I may have heard only a rattle in my cup: the tink-tink of the few blessings I recognized. Today, I don't dare move my cup, for where it sits, it has caught an abundance of love and care.
It's not always easy to recognize or remember how we've been blessed. It's an exhausting task at times, to pull back the curtain of grief and peer at anything other than missing Harlynn. It is important, though, to remember there is life beyond that curtain. I'll never take it down, and I'll use it to close myself off from the world around me from time to time, but I will also venture out and remember what lies beyond its hem. Even in my grief, my cup runneth over.
If you find yourself feeling the despair of an empty cup, come sit a while. Let me share with you. Let me bless you in whatever way I can. I may not be able to fill your cup, but He can. And until He does, I will pour into you as I have been poured into. My cup runneth over. Soon, yours will, too.