She was serenaded by a cowboy on the eve of her birthday — an unexpected treat on a day that already felt like a celebration.
Funny and feisty was this girl, rather, woman: old in years but young in spirit.
After all, there are no true birthdays for the youthful souls… they just keep adapting and creating, celebrating their capabilities as much as acknowledging their inabilities.
They are adept at living fully in the moments they have, even if it looks different than what they may have done years ago or even yesterday.
This girl was a fountain of youth sprung from a dying ground.
If faith were wings, she would have flown straight to Jesus. But as it stands, her body keeps her here, day to day, until her final day, when all that encumbers returns to dust.
The following day was her birthday — the hard day.
It started as such days should, with smiles and loved ones reaching out.
But their reach could not extend far enough to stop what was to come. The girl would end up in the emergency room and then in an ambulance, ultimately being transported to a hospital equipped to handle the required and unexpected surgery.
This was the hard day. At least, that is what we told ourselves when we finally were able to rest.
But then tomorrow came. Then the next day. And the next.
The hard days kept coming, and they are not over.
Dispersed in the unexpected valleys were many unexpected blessings: laughter shared, kind nurses and aides, prayers, feeling the warmth of holding hands before the squeeze upon release that says ‘I love you’, being present despite being exhausted and scared, sharing goodnight and good morning salutations, expressing thoughts and stories between pokes, pricks, and tests.
Who knew there could be peace in situations when so much was going wrong? She did. She knew. That girl. That woman. That child of God.
The situation is still unraveling. The ending has yet to be written. Rather, it has yet to be read by our eyes. But I have learned this thus far: almost every day can be considered the day before the hard day.
Life is hard.
Life often takes our breath away, whether in gladness or grief.
Yet only God can take our final breath and use it as a beginning rather than an ending.
In this truth, softness emerges. The promise. The joy. The strength. The victory.
Hardness can make bones and spirit brittle, but hope ties the spirit to its Maker, softening the heart to give life beyond death… hope beyond hope.
The day before the hard day, in essence, is every day.
No measure of faith eradicates problems, nor should we expect it to.
I looked at the girl wearing wrinkles upon her skin and grey in her hair.
I watched her sleep in the hospital bed as I rested in a recliner beside her.
If I stared long enough, I could see her at almost every age she has lived, even though I was not alive until the last fifty of them.
It wasn’t her body I was seeing, but her soul dancing, even skipping, to dreams I will never know. To memories I have never had.
As much as we try to come alongside someone, there is only so far we can travel.
I am forever grateful for the journey God has allowed me to share with this beautiful girl. For the time He has gifted. For the responsibility of using this time wisely.
This callous world brings its own hardness. May we find refuge in God.
May we move through hard days with unstoppable faith, selfless love, and the stone-crushing strength that is deposited in us through the Holy Spirit.
And may we remember that all our hard days are temporary. We must be mindful not to make permanent decisions based on temporary, painful emotions.
God be with you, my friend, in all your days… always and in all ways.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. For more inspirational articles, follow ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.