Sunday thoughts

     Sometimes I feel sad at the end of days like today.

     I went to church, praying and worshipping and playing my violin from 8:45 to 12:30-ish. All the family then rushed outside to take photos - partly to remember the day of Leah's baptism and partly because five of us will be moving 2500 miles away in a few weeks, and we want and need to have photos together.

     Then we drove home for a celebratory lunch. My grandparents drove two hours to be there. Ranging in age from 86 to 6 weeks, the house was filled with the sound of life. We ate barbecue with lemon squares and chocolate espresso brownies for dessert, then sat in the living room for several hours telling stories, listening and laughing, and watching the kids in all their cuteness. 

     The goodbyes took the better part of an hour, another story starting every few steps as we inched towards the door. They all left in sets and pairs, going their separate ways, and the house was suddenly still and quiet. 

     And that's the moment it hurts. The rooms that were filled with voices and togetherness moments before are vacant of both now. I have no desire to romanticize it or make it something it's not. It just hurts. 

     Christmas ended in tears last year, as I sat in my bedroom alone after a long day of quiet (family celebrations had been cancelled because of sickness). It was the same feeling as today, only worse, because every other Christmas of my life had been filled with family and feasting and that one was so utterly...empty.

     I'm thankful as I see my siblings in happy marriages, well taken care of and taking care of their own families. I'm grateful that all the prayers for spouses sent up throughout the years are answered, and that God is blessing them. One is building a house on a hill soon, another is expecting his second child, and the other is moving across the country because he's good at his job and has been promoted. They can do nothing apart from Christ but I'm their sister and I'm still proud of them. 

    Nights like this one are sometimes hard because they're a them now, and there's not as much of an us. I can get stuck on a memory of less lonely times and it makes my heart hurt to realize how, even though all the changes have been good ones, I'm left more alone because of them. Our family has grown and it's beautiful, but it's shrunk too, and I'm the only one left on the inside.

     Even though it's not a position I ever really prepared for, so many good things have come my way because of where I am in life, and I'm thankful for that. And even though the changes in our family sometimes leave me with an ache deep down inside, I recognize the blessings in them, too. 

    Each photo taken on days like today is precious to me, because when the meal is over and everyone's gone home, I hold onto them and remember our togetherness.