no words.

A week ago today, my dear mother passed away.

A Saturday morning. On 20 August 2011.

I knew it was coming, but at the same time I was blindsided. Not expecting it. Thinking it would be a long time coming still. And I wish I had been correct.

My mind is still reeling.

I spent most of each day since then crying uncontrollably, until Thursday morning.

I do not know what happened Thursday morning, but it was different.

Wednesday night, I went through what had become my usual ordeal of inconsolable crying. I cried out to Jesus, imploring him to take the pain away. I just can't take it anymore.

And He heard my cry. I haven't cried inconsolably since that night. Thursday morning felt different. Thursday felt different. Thursday night felt different. The same goes for Friday. And now, Saturday. A week later.

Yes, I will cry again. And again after that. And again still. I know this. But the past few days, I know the Lord has shown me just how real and close his mercy and care are. The ache is still there, but the sting is not.

How long will it take the ache to heal? That I do not know. I told my son Sunday night, August 20 next year will most likely still hurt a lot. But I suspect that five years from now it won't hurt as much. Ten years from now it may hurt even less. And twenty years from now, August 20 may not cause me much heartache at all.

Of course, I am speculating. Hoping. But I know through this and past experiences that the Lord is all about removing stings. Healing aches. Binding wounds, and restoring broken hearts. It's his business.

He is the one I can count on always. When I feel like my photography sucks, or when there are times like these when I don't even care whether it sucks or not--I just don't want to touch my camera ever again.

Because it feels like photography, with all of its virtues and promise, brings to remembrance everything. Even the painful things.

But Jesus doesn't remember the painful things. If he removes our sins as far as the east is from the west and remembers them no more, that is a good indication to me that he wants my heart to be refreshed with the wonderful memories.

He is the one I on whom I can always depend. When the music fades, or when there are times like these when I feel like it isn't healing or soothing, but it is only turning the knife.

Jesus never turns the knife. Jesus only heals. Only soothes. Always. If he gives me a song at a time when I have no desire to write ever again, that is a good indication to me that he wants my spirit to be comforted with his words.

He did give me a song. Monday night.

you see my tears

one by one

slowly they fall into space

you catch them

in your hand

you hear my cry

sorrow inside

every stream on my face

you watch as they dry

and then you say, "my love...

nothing is in vain

your tears are not wasted...

I hold them here

one by one

although darkness to you

I turn them into light

ashes surround

final it seems

and in the blink of an eye

I turn it into joy

and give it all to you...

nothing is in vain

your tears are not wasted..."

As much as I love remembering (it is a motto of mine), all I have wanted to do is forget.

The Lord is gently reassuring me that it is okay to remember.