Today was an incredibly long day. After learning of Quinton's death, I paused in my morning. I sat at the feet of my Lord in His Word, and marinaded in it. I needed truth something bad. Strike that, I need - present tense - truth something bad. And in His Word I got it. Then began the marathon that was my day: chapel at 10, lunch, class, class, class, coffee with Kyle Tennant (here's your shout out, Kyle!), homework, dinner, intramural soccer game, phone with dad, Sam, mom, and dad again, RA small group meeting. By the time the meeting ended at 11, I thought I'd fall asleep right on Steph's couch, but I still have a paper to write and two exams to study for. Finally back in my room around 11:30, I was overwhelmed by the messiness and clutter and to do lists looming like a title wave in the middle of my floor, coming from my desk. the worst part was that I didn't get to enjoy the 60 degree weather!
Then I saw the flowers.
I wasn't expecting flowers.
There was a precious note with them that read, "Even in the midst of a beautiful day, Jesus may call us into a moment of pain." I cried again. Not the first time I cried today, nor the last I predict. But this cry was full of happy tears, sweet ones, ones that come from knowing you are dearly loved and cared for; from knowing that you have been vulnerable enough to need someone and they are there meeting you in your need. There's something to this "need" idea. I don't like to need people. I was talking with Tasha, who also knew Quinton, today about this. It's hard to grieve with people who aren't grieving because you're the needy one for a time; they don't need you to cry, but you need them to be there with you. You're the weak one this time. You're vulnerable. And you have to ask them to hold the Kleenex box, hold the phone calls or your hand. And today I needed. And my needs were abundantly met in Katelynn's offer to help in any way she could and the reminder to take her up on the offer, and Bethany's daffodils and card of companionship.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Leave me a peice of your heart's ponderings: