Peace

We walked outside and looked up at the giant expanse of stars. Their abundance and clarity took my breath away. It is amazing what you can see without light. In town where we live now (the "city" as I call it, though it really isn't), we would never see so many stars with the intrusion of street lights and other light pollution. But when we lived in the cabin in the mountains, set apart from the rat race, we could see this on any clear night. On this occasion, my husband was pointing out things he had been learning in his "Observing the Summer Sky" class. He really enjoys sharing what he has learned, especially if it's science or nature. Sometimes, today I long for a place to go where I can have such a clear view of that vast, peaceful, breathtaking, sparkling, night sky. It's still there, I just need to step away from the distractions to find it.

When I had the panic attack, I felt like I was pinned down to my chair. We were in a prayer meeting (we have those where I work). Everyone had just bowed their heads to pray and it hit me hard. I had an overwhelming urge to flee. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I kept opening my eyes to try to push away the images that were flooding my mind. Images of a crime I never witnessed, but heard too much about. I don't know what was said in the prayer meeting because I was too busy fighting - really fighting. Tears were rolling down my cheeks even though my eyes were squeezed shut as tightly as I could squeeze them. It was terrifying.

Almost a week ago I had a similar, yet opposite experience. I was visiting a church that one of my boot camp friends goes to and they were singing songs. (Fun fact: all music is a capella at that church. No instruments.) I didn't know the songs but something in the words hit me. Something about God's Son dying. It was the realization that, through all my anger and grief over that little girl being killed in our neighborhood, God not only knew how I felt, but how her mother felt. He knew exactly what it felt like to lose a child. I couldn't say to God, "but You don't understand!" And I wasn't alone.

I felt like all that weight was lifted off of me and I felt like I could just melt into a heap in my chair. I didn't want to run, but I was fighting tears. I really didn't want anyone to see me and think I was crying because I didn't like their singing. It was a healing moment for me. I felt like I was able to let it go and move forward.

Christmas is just over a week away and my prayer is that Skylar's mother is surrounded by love and peace and all the happy memories she has of her little girl, who's spending this Christmas in heaven.