On Declan's birthday we received heart-felt flowers, cards, and gifts. Among those was a book that I received from two of my friends...Finding Hope by Michael Wilcox.I had read the first chapter or two and then placed it on my dresser where it was buried with loads of things that I am yet to put away.
I rediscovered it as I had been searching for something else on a particularly hard day. I read a few chapters and then Christian invited me along with him somewhere. I hopped in the car toting my book.
I tearfully shared the stories that touched my heart...one in particular named, "We were four."
An antarctic explorer by the name of Sir Ernest Shackleton became trapped in ice on their ship, the Endurance. Four months they were stuck there during the Antarctic winter with no sun for months. The ice eventually crushed the ship leaving them stranded on ice floes for months. As they began to melt they left the ice for three small lifeboats where they finally landed on Elephant Island. The island was far from any rescue so Shackleton knew they must leave the island and head to South George Island where whaling ships frequented. In a 22-foot boat covered with a handmade top, Shackleton and 5 men went 850 miles across the roughest seas (on earth). When they finally reached the island, which was a feat in itself, they landed on the wrong side of the island. So they had to trek across the glaciers and high mountains for 36-hours. He was able to successfully keep alive all 28 men who relied on him.
The point of this story, other than it's astonishing account, was that two of the men who accompanied Shackleton said that they had felt there was someone else with them...they could not see.
In my mind I picture the men, who endured so much and probably reached the island thinking, "We made it!" only to find out they were going to have to continue their journey further, cross the mountains and ice to reach their destination...with the companionship of someone who loved them dearly and had been watching out for them.
Even as I just wrote about this story, several times I thought, "That wasn't enough?" to be stranded wasn't enough? To live on the ice, wasn't enough? Then to have to go on lifeboats to Elephant Island, still wasn't enough?...But it continued on and on. It made me think of the trials I have been asked to go through...even since Declan dying. I have caught myself saying, "Wasn't that enough?!" Then my baby cousin died and again I said it. Then my grandpa. Then other trials that have brought me to tears...all along I thought, "Why isn't this enough?!" Then in my lowest point finding out I am not pregnant...again...it wasn't done.
I could spent the rest of my life keeping score, worrying about all the things that keep happening that I would rather not. But...I have been assured that good things are to come...does that mean they won't be paired with hard things? Probably not. I don't think that a season of trials equals a season of hopelessness...though I have had my share of days that I have wondered that.
I hope as this new year comes, and even before, that I will finally realize that things happen...no matter what has just happened. There's no allotment on tough things. Sometimes it is sparse and sometimes it rains down until you almost feel it will never end...but I have to accept that.
I can't imagine the relief Shackleton felt when he reached home. After all the work and toil in the worst circumstances imaginable...to finally be safe and know that it was over. I suppose that is how we will feel when we put away our earthly cares and move onto the next life. Peace. Rest. And that all those hardships we have endured...are over.
I have been working a lot on my genealogy lately. It has been really good for me in many ways. I feel so connected to these people, not just because we share the same bloodline, but because I have invested myself in their lives. One of the most touching things I have seen is the amount of children lost in my family. In one month my ancestors lost 3 children...a daughter and a niece and nephew to diphtheria. The year before a brother-in-law died of Spinal Meningitis after only being married a few months. The 3 children were 11, 5 and 2. I can't imagine the heartache of those parents. To grieve for your child and then turn around and lose your nephew and niece as well...I can't imagine - all from the same horrifying illness.
It makes me appreciate my ancestors even more having buried a child myself. Though it still happens more frequently than I realized, most babies do survive, unlike it used to be where the mother or child would frequently pass on. So many have journeyed the same path...over and over again in some cases.
It may seem depressing, but somehow I feel an inner strength knowing that these people are the reason I am here. I hope I inherited some of their strength all these years later.
I think finding hope is what has brought me along this last year. When I have let it slip through my fingers I always find it again...waiting for me and leading me where I am meant to go.