First Steps

As many people gathered around their holiday tables, Easter or Passover, traditions were in place, some in the form of the type of gathering itself, by the people around the table, by the china or the stemware passed on from generation to generation, some in the form of selected, special dishes served, after all, what is a family gathering without the presence of the Easter ham, or the augratin potatoes, or the green bean casserole, or the jello salads, or the desserts that Grandma used to make?! The plans, the grocery shopping, the preparations, all spark tradition, and in doing so, in loss, can also ignite pain. Emotional pain. Or physical pain, caused from the emotional pain. A hole in one's heart that seems it can never be filled. Loss. Yet life. That is how I have to look at it, to keep going, and to take those steps.

The first steps seem so difficult, but for me, the steps get a bit more difficult, weary, sluggish. I asked Joe, yesterday, through the preparations and tears that flowed, when he thought it might get a bit easier. He said it may never, but we will keep going, and trying, and doing, and taking steps. That was my comfort in that moment when the tears wouldn't stop and my body wanted to stop. And I thought back. Back to a time when the grief and loss, my first real significant experience, of my mother, was more than I thought I could bear. But, I did, and still do, and when I think of her when I prepare for special occasions, that pain of ache is not quite the same, and a smile can fill my heart as I make my way. Then of course, another significant loss, my father, who "endured" the holidays and showed us how to take the steps after our mother was gone. Now, my daughter, my child, my balance, my rock, my strength. She is gone, and nothing has ever seemed the same.

I have, and will, always, take the steps. I would almost give anything to turn back the clock and be in the "first step" phase, the steps when you really do not know how to turn, how to persevere, the time when God bears down and gives His unending grace and holds you up. The time when the new reality hasn't quite set in, and the numbness and shock keep you standing. The time when I never fully realized that Allison is not coming back. Now, I do. And those steps must continue to be taken.

Loss and grief over the missing loved ones will always be part of life. It's just the way it is...and loss and grief comes to mind, in gut wrenching ways, as we have seen, almost firsthand, how our community has lost. Lost items, property, entire homes, from this devastating tornado pattern in St. Louis. How to rebuild? How to start taking those steps when people we personally know do not have a shred of paper left, who are filtering through debris many blocks and miles away in hopes of finding a snapshot, a momento, a piece of the way life was, before life as they knew it no longer exists? How to start taking the steps?

The steps are going to be many, long and difficult and challenging. Emotional and relentless. But it's the first steps that will lead to the bigger ones, and on and on, and yes, when reality sets in, and some of the shock wears off, these people will find their blessings, too. They already have begun to realize that no one has perished, and this tornado taught the true meaning of family and neighbors and community. They are in high need of everything. Today and always. It's not what is going to take place today that will matter, it's what, and who, will be there for them when others seem to have forgotten. Even this weekend, most of us went along with our plans for our holiday, because we needed to and should. What was to be gained from changing plans, even when our hearts weren't in it? What could we really do that would make a difference? We each found our way, whether through prayer of thanksgiving that our houses were in tact, more importantly, our lives. We found our way, whether through making donations or physically taking items to the centers. Yes, our lives were touched, deeply, but the Easter egg hunts went on, and the families gathered, and the meals were prepared. We counted our blessings in the face of yet another disaster. And we, each in our own unique situations, took the steps, maybe the "first steps", maybe we are walking a path that is ours for the rest of this lifetime, but whatever our story is, we took the steps. And that is the important thing.

We will take steps with our community, with our loved ones, with our neighbors, through the tornadoes of life. Nothing seems more devastating right now than the intensity of loss, and there but for the grace of God go I...but they, and we, will rebuild, and we will take those first steps, and another, and another, until we find our path.