The morning after the recent lunar eclipse, I had planned to get up early, shoot the sunrise, then take a bicycle ride in search of wildlife to photograph. The eclipse was past what I've been trying to keep as a steady bedtime. Meaning, I got to bed LATE. After seven years of mostly sleepless nights (and even before Parkinson's), attempting to regulate my sleep patterns this last few months has been a bit of a challenge. I decided not to take my sleep aid the night of the eclipse so I might still be able to get up on time for the sunrise.
I woke ten minutes before the alarm went off, and I read scriptures until my daily devotional chimed. I had a 529-day streak of doing it every single morning before Lizard went into the hospital. I tried to keep up with it that week but apparently floundered a little. My streak as of this writing now stands at 130 days, which goes back to the day after he died.
Every once in a while, the daily devotional, which is centered on the Old Testament this year, really gets me. So many of the devotionals are so applicable to what I'm going through at that very moment. I often feel as if God Himself has plucked that particular verse that very day to prove to me He is still istening and still loving.
The devotional always links to another applicable and related scripture, as well as another article or General Conference talk that delves deeper into the principle being taught. I used to read both every single day. I was extremely spotty the last six weeks of Lizard's life because the Parkinson's had become so severe and sleep for both of us had become so fleeting. In the very wee hours of the morning, I set the goal to read and truly study both again each and every day while I waited for hours for the coroner to arrive and pronounce Lizard's passing official.
The morning after the most recent lunar eclipse, the verse of the day was Psalm 69:16. "Turn unto me according to the multitude of thy tender mercies." The linked scripture was 2 Samuel 22:2-3. "And he said, The LORD is my rock, and my deliverer; The God of my rock; in him will I trust, he is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my saviour; thou savest me from violence."
The linked article broke me. I erupted into a fountain of tears to rival Episode 54 at Kilauea a couple of days earlier.
I've been writing a letter to Lizard every day since about ten days after he died. I don't know if he can hear me when I talk to him. I don't know if he stands over my shoulder as I write to him. I don't know if he will ever be able to read what I write. But my pretended continued communication helps me feel connected to him, especially when I am missing him more than normal. I'm sharing a few excerpts I wrote to him the day after the most recent lunar eclipse because I think it best expresses what I wanted to share with you today.
Today's devotional broke me. Again. I think I'm doing better and healing, then something comes out of nowhere and topples me again. The devotional featured a short video message from a woman whose husband confiscated all their money and left the country. I thought of my first husband, who hurt me so deeply, I almost didn't trust you when we first met. But then I thought of you. I am so blessed to have you as my eternal companion. You are so kind and so sensitive, and you would never knowingly do anything to hurt me. Ever. That was such a tender mercy for me to realize.
The devotional also linked to a 10-year-old article by a woman with MS. I know a lot about MS because of all our efforts to fight the disease for those who couldn't before you were diagnosed with something equally as bad. If not worse.
I wondered as she disclosed her diagnosis if she is even still alive now. Her symptoms were severe when she was first diagnosed. As we both may recall, being diagnosed with MS is not always easy or fast. Hers seemed to come on like gangbusters, just like your Parkinson's, and I continually thought of you as I read on.
She received a priesthood blessing assuring her God would not give her any trial that would not be for her benefit. That absolutely broke me. At first, all I could think about was your final week, and how in the world could that possibly have been for my good? I cried and cried. Then, my thoughts went to you. Even before I was able to pick up my phone to finish reading her story, I thought about how much you suffered. Initially, I questioned God. How could that have been for your good?
I pretty quickly turned it around to being thankful you are no longer suffering and are whole now. That you were able to do so much in your life before it was prematurely taken from you. Almost like a thief in the night.
I remembered how you were always so good-natured and filled with loving kindness (which I've been studying a lot this week in Psalms), even when things got really bad. There were moments when you were not you, and there were too many times when you didn't recognize me. But just like the kindness you continually tried to show the homeless people you thought had commandeered our house, you tried to be kind to me, and you were almost always considerate of my needs. Because that's who you are. Even in extreme duress.
It helped me love you more. Sometimes, I don't think that's even possible. My heart is so full of you, there's no way my love for you could grow any bigger. But it does. All the time. Just like it did this morning.
I still haven't finished reading the article yet, and I've got so many things I need to get done this morning before it gets too hot. But I couldn't go any further without letting you know how grateful I am for you, how much my love for you keeps growing, and that even though I still have moments of intense pain, I know it's because we have such intense love. I wouldn't trade that for anything.
