On July 22, 2020, I ate a peach. The sky broke open with sunshine like every other day, the Flathead River flowed liquid turquoise, and the mountains rose in power to lift up the clouds. But I took a bite of a peach.
So simple, so rudimentary, but it was all I could do. In the wake of catastrophic grief, my stomach could not take something meatier, something of more substance like a breakfast wrap or even scrambled eggs. Much less could my heart. And so I lifted the fruit to my lips, opened numbly, and broke off a piece, because though you don’t know much else right now you have to eat. Chewed, tasted sweet nothing, and swallowed.
***
What do I do now? How do I move forward? How do I greet the day with hope? Will I ever again see the sun and the river and the mountains to be places of joy?
Take a bite of peach.
Why does my heart feel how it feels, what does this mean for my future, if that was real love, how can I possibly go on?
Take a bite of peach.
The greatest potential-of-an-adventure I’d ever known, gone, oh God my God, I don’t even have the heart to ask right now what work are you doing in me?
Take a bite of peach.
Back to the basics, back to the basics, soft foods oh God my God I can’t I don’t, the effort it takes to even raise it to my mouth —
Take a bite of Grace.
Not just lack of punishment, but presence of favor. There is mercy, but then there is grace. The path you walk is good, because grace coats your steps. Grace to trust, grace to choose. Grace to lift a peach to your lips, grace to spit it out again. I will never leave you or forsake you.
But God oh God what I want is gone, I lost it but it’s because I’m not ready what if I am never ready—
Take a bite of Trust.
Not just presence of belief, but the resolve to walk in it. One step at a time. Trust your heart because of whose it is. Not without open hands, but without wavering. (And if you waver, take a bite of peach. I will provide.) The falling is the scariest, but you are caught, and then you are held. Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.
But God oh God I feel so alone in this and I don’t know how much more I can take, why oh why is this the path I’m on—
Take a bite of Love.
You are loved by an everlasting love. It rejoices in your heart and your intentions and your faith, and when those feel weak, love remains. It doesn’t insist on its own way—when the current wants to fight it, it finds the more forgiving route. It is fierce, but it will not force. And yet, it won’t abandon. It seeks the truth, it plants it, sows it, waters it, waits on it. Love never ends. You are precious and honored in my sight, and I love you.
***
On July 22, 2020, I couldn’t see my way out. Of sorrow, of grief, of hopelessness. I couldn’t see past my outstretched hand, when I had the strength to stretch out. The river was clear and bright and cold, the sun was clear and bright and warm, but when I looked at the mountains, the way they poked the clouds seemed anything but grace-filled, trusting, loving.
And so, I took a bite of peach. Not by my strength or by my understanding. Not because I was hungry or wanted to. But it was all I could do, and on that day, in that moment, it was enough. Grace for the peach, trust will come. Love never left.
But God, I want to feel again. (Just not this.)
But God, I was made for joy, where did it go?
But God, I don’t know what you’re doing, and sometimes it feels like I’ve wandered into dangerous territory, and sometimes I doubt that you’re really working all things for good. Sometimes I wonder if you’ll come through, I’ve seen it before but that was then and this is now, another impossible mountain and are you really the same God and if you are then is it all my fault, this restless wanting heart, what on earth can be done with it… and if it’s up to you and you-in-me then what am I supposed to do here, before the same old river and under the same bright sun?
My daughter, take a bite of peach.
Flathead River (Middle Fork) and the jumping bridge, Glacier NP, July 2020
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