The Broken Window
Grief. Here we go again. Just when I could finally breathe easier, I got another sucker punch. Like a litter of puppies tumbling all over each other as they wrestle to prove who is ‘top dog’, my emotions tumble over one another wresting to see which one will win out. Which one will surface this minute and which one the next? To be perfectly honest I have been pretty much on auto pilot ever since we were told that my Mom’s cancer was back. It is incurable, stage 4 breast cancer that has metastasized to her lungs. I live two provinces away with Covid restrictions refusing to ease up. When people ask me how I am doing, I have no idea how to answer. I’m angry, hopeful, frustrated, grateful, ready to ninja-punch someone or something, so very sad… One morning as I was pondering this grief journey, the Lord gave me a picture of a broken window. The glass was still intact, and light was coming through, but the view was distorted. It wasn’t until I got right up close to the glass that I cou