A Time To...

Last week, I found myself smack in the middle of two very extreme realities that we mere humans have a hard time even beginning to wrap our head around.

Life and Death.
Creation and End.
Hope and Despair.
Joy and Mourning.

Experiencing all of these in less than an hour was brutally overwhelming, yet refreshingly raw.
Just real.

My uncle battled a tough fight with multiple myleoma. We all watched as he so slowly, then suddenly much more rapidly, died before our eyes over the last couple of years.

As my husband and I had an unavoidable spectator's seat in this, we were nudged to discuss big realities in our own lives, in our family dynamic, in humanity itself; we were able to mourn while living.

But even with the somewhat blessing of being prepared for this personal tragedy, we still weren't.

With a coffin in front of us, it still hit hard as I watched my aunt crying over her best friend, my teenage cousin casually conversating with his dad. Saying final goodbyes.

We weep when we see a loved one lifeless, like Jesus Himself did when he saw his friend Lazarus. They're right here with us, but not here.

We weep also when we see a baby on a screen full of life. They're not yet here with us, but so very here.


We had to schedule an ultrasound a month in advance. You know, the big one. Full bladder. Gender revealed. Hours on a table. Goo on top of goo. After going back and forth, we decided to keep the appointment. Straight from the cemetary, my husband and I drove directly to the doctor's office, with just minutes to spare.

Him in a dark suit, me a black maternity dress, pearls, mascara smeared. We entered the dark room and made small talk with the smiley technician. I lift up my layers of black and got ready for the familar. But this, though familar, never gets old.

The vivid pumping of the heartbeat, the little toes, the exaggerated squirms, the perfect lips, the nose.

"There's the baby's legs right there and it looks like..."
"A girl," I answered myself, an all-knowing veteran at this point.
My husband in shock and awe, still and again. Me with tears streaming quietly down my cheeks.

The same tears from just an hour earlier, but not. More like tears to wash away tears.

Life in the midst of death. A new creation in the midst of an end. So much hope in the midst of despair. True joy in the midst of mourning.

Really, what Christ offers us all.


At the funeral mass, my brother went to the altar and read these ancient, holy words:

"There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

 a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,     

 a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,    

 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,  

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 

 a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,    

 a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,      

a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace."

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

When those times above are juxtaposed so closely in life that they overlap seasons, moments really, our humanity itself can overwhelm us. 

But to have a God who is sovereign over it all is all. Everything in everything.

~~~

To donate in memory of my uncle and in honor of my cousin's future, please click below:

Joe Jr. Fund