When I hear the phrase "sandwich generation" -- I don't think of it in the classic sense anymore. Because for me, three generations collide in meeting and passing on the same day. The day I took my first breath. And I'm the one still breathing.
So I get a sandwich for that....
No, that's not what I mean. I couldn't help myself though. Persisting in breathing seems a bit of an accomplishment when I think of all those who aren't here to join me today. 13 loved ones from 2016 alone are missing. Breathing is good.
Don't let anyone tell you that surviving isn't good enough. Thriving is for those times when you can move beyond winning at breathing. Those times haven't been this past year. I'm ok with a trophy for what I accomplished and didn't accomplish. Breathing is where I place first. Maybe only tied with heart-still-beating?
When I write these thoughts, I want you to know that I thoroughly mean them with every joy I can imagine infused into them. I'm not writing after all this time with any air of desperation. Or seeking your pity. I tend to get rather private when I need to process grief. It takes a while for me to tread water and process and come back to interacting. I've learned this about myself.
It's a good thing. Just like God. He's good all the time. Especially as I find myself pondering that goodness while breathing. That's where I get to encounter Him right now.
And this mess? This mess is the lens through which I get see Him. I'll take the view I've been given. And if I have fewer words because I choose to embrace the path -- so be it. I never considered myself much of a leader or a blogger.