A few weeks back some last minute plans landed me sitting in a darkened theater tears silently running down my cheeks while I watched Les Miserables. If you haven't seen Les Mis (the musical or the movie) it is a beautiful story of redemption. Love and revolution, adoption and loss; the plot is just beautiful. I read the play in high school and have loved it ever since.
Nearly 3 hours later the finale came. And it had me in pieces. Fantine (who is dead and welcoming Valjean into the afterlife) and Jean Valjean (who is dying) sing together:
It was the lyrics at the end, the words "To love another person is to see the face of God" that turned the steady stream of tears into still silent (hopefully) sobs. As I processed the words, for the first time in over a month I felt a small glimmer of peace. Not the peace that passes understanding but the peace that allows you to take a deep breath and relax your shoulders a little bit.
There are some things I will never understand. Certain questions continue to haunt me. Why did we lose our referral? How could our agency go to bat for another family but not ours? Will there be a Christmas that is tainted by waiting, loss or both?
I don't know the answers to those questions (and more) but I'm making my way at finding peace. Some of that peace is found in my usual spot of delving into scripture but other parts of that peace appear where I least expect it; at the end of a musical turned movie, watching Toy Story cuddled with Gabe, peeking at Matt and Gabe from around the corner or just quick texts with friends.
Peace. Grief. It's a little bit bittersweet, a little bit ugly and remarkably, a little bit beautiful as well.
"Take my hand
And lead me to salvation
Take my love
For love is everlasting
And remember
The truth that once was spoken
To love another person
Is to see the face of God."
And lead me to salvation
Take my love
For love is everlasting
And remember
The truth that once was spoken
To love another person
Is to see the face of God."
It was the lyrics at the end, the words "To love another person is to see the face of God" that turned the steady stream of tears into still silent (hopefully) sobs. As I processed the words, for the first time in over a month I felt a small glimmer of peace. Not the peace that passes understanding but the peace that allows you to take a deep breath and relax your shoulders a little bit.
There are some things I will never understand. Certain questions continue to haunt me. Why did we lose our referral? How could our agency go to bat for another family but not ours? Will there be a Christmas that is tainted by waiting, loss or both?
I don't know the answers to those questions (and more) but I'm making my way at finding peace. Some of that peace is found in my usual spot of delving into scripture but other parts of that peace appear where I least expect it; at the end of a musical turned movie, watching Toy Story cuddled with Gabe, peeking at Matt and Gabe from around the corner or just quick texts with friends.
Peace. Grief. It's a little bit bittersweet, a little bit ugly and remarkably, a little bit beautiful as well.
**photos from google images.
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