Grace In Between

It’s hard to understand how a day I have been anxiously anticipating for so long can catch me by such surprise. I feel pressed under the weight of thousands of words I want to say, but at the same time, I have none. I’m torn between questioning and rejoicing, remembering and forgetting, weeping and dancing.
I always knew I would write on this day, because writing is so healing for me. Originally, I was going to write about the questioning. The forgetting. The weeping. I wanted to be honest about the depths of my grief; I wanted to try to bridge the gap between ‘life is hard’ and ‘God is good’.

Two things changed my mind.

Number one is that you, whoever you are, already know that life is hard. You have lost relationships and jobs and people and health and hope. You have been broken and confused and disappointed. I don’t need to tell you how hard life can be.

Number two is that my Cathy taught me differently. She taught me to rejoice, to remember, to dance in the streets. She taught me to stand in the middle of a downpour and shout, “I know He’s here.”

I still want to be honest – of course this is hard. I am still grieving, and I am so insecure about it. (Isn’t that strange?) I worry that people are forgetting about her. I worry about the future without her — my college graduation, my wedding day, my first job in a hospital; everything she looked forward to. I feel dumb and weak because I am not “over it”. I miss her so much I can feel it in my bones. I’m sad that people don’t remember– remember to mention her, remember I’m still grieving, or remember this day. I question why some people live until 102 and she hardly got to finish her 50’s.

But God.

“Don’t you see, you planned evil against me, but God used those same plans for my good.” — Genesis 50:20

Only one thing makes sense on this day. In honor of my Cathy – I want to dance. I want to share the good that God has brought out of evil. I want to share all of the things that make this story worth it. And I want to invite you into the dancing with me.

Because of Cathy’s life, a girl I have known of forever has become one of my best friends. Her incredible daddy and Cathy went through many of cancer’s valleys together and now we walk this grief road together. We question together. We laugh and cry and remember them together. Kacie Smiley, you make this story worth it.

Because of Cathy’s life, I can love on my grieving friends just a little better than I could have before. I can meet them in the “this stinks and nothing can change it”, and just be there. To know that because of loss, Jesus can use me a little more than He could before, is overwhelming. Grief has made turned these strangers into my deepest friendships. Mari Claire Ouzts, Monica Larson, Eva Simmons, KT Taylor, Katie Smoak, you make this story worth it.

Because of Cathy’s life, I found my community. When Cathy was in her final days, I had just begun my first semester at Anderson. The only near-by support I had was from people I had known a month, but goodness did they show up. I remember each day coming home to flowers and letters and cookies and candy and more love than I could have ever imagined. Those new friends instantly became my family. Most of them didn’t even know Cathy, but they stepped in and met me right where I was. I have no doubt they will be my best friends for a life time. MC, Addi, Nate, Gray, Laura, Nathan, you may have forgotten what you did for me this time last year, but I never will. You make this story worth it.

Because of Cathy’s life, I have another family. Her parents, kids, and best friends have adopted me and encouraged me more than I will ever deserve. I have another home, more grandparents, and big brothers and sisters who have changed my life for the better. Chels, Jess, Kim, Chad, Jack, Patty, Tim, Wendy, Gwinny, you make this story worth it.

And the best one… Because of Cathy’s life, a classmate that I had never even spoken to started following Jesus — and now lives in the freedom and hope that she saw in Cathy. Can you believe that? Jesus used Cathy’s story to pull her into life with Him. Maggie Banks Gossett, you, my hot pink best friend, make this story SO worth it.

A day of celebration, indeed. My God has not left me and He has most certainly not dropped the ball on my life as I once thought. He has turned the evil into good, the weeping into singing, the mourning into dancing.

And we’re only one year in.

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To my Cathy,

Thank you for teaching me to dance in the streets. Thank you for giving me a reason to never leave things unsaid or undone. Thank you for teaching me to not spend my time chasing more time. Thank you for teaching me that whatever He gives us — it’s enough.
It really is enough.
Until I see you again,

“I love you more than that.”
-Haley