July, 6, 2016. A Wednesday. Just another day, nothing special, nothing unique. Average, ordinary, meaningless. But not for me. For me, today is bittersweet. Today is tinged with a million emotions, a million memories.
On July 6, 1991, exactly 25 years ago today, my mom said, “I do,” to her best friend, my dad. Today is my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary. Wow! 25 years ago today my parents promised to choose each other every single day for the rest of their lives and they have done just that for the past 25 years. Their marriage isn’t perfect, its messy, its real, its human. In the last 25 years there have been days where things have been easy, where blessing upon blessing has come their way, when its been sunshine all day long, where choosing each other has been easy, peezy, lemon squeezy. Then there have been days where nothing has gone right, where it has seemed like the world was against them, where they’ve questioned how much more they could take, where they’ve seriously thought about giving up, where choosing each other has been difficult. And yet through it all, through the laughs and the tears and the many moments in between, they’ve said that love was worth it, that choosing each other was worth it. And its been a joy, an honor, a privilege to get to call them parents, to grow up in their household, to see them push each other and stretch each other and learn from each other and grow together, to see them love each other and choose each other on the good days and the bad days, to watch them run towards forever together. And so here we are, a quarter of a century later, and they both wrote in their anniversary cards to each other, “looking forward to another 25 years.” So today is sweet because it’s a day of celebration and joy and love and happiness.
But today is also bitter. The amount of times people have given my parents funny looks when they find out that they are both on their first marriage and that they’ve been together for 25 years breaks my heart. Its bitter because for a lot of families and for a lot of couples, this day will never come. They will never see their parents celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary or they will never celebrate being together for 25 years. Seeing other families like mine, seeing other couples like my mom and dad, together and happy brings up feelings of hurt and pain. Broken families, broken marriages, broken promises. It’s a reminder of anniversaries and celebrations that could have been, should have been, will never be.
On July 6, 2015, exactly one year ago today, my Uncle Ron breathed his last breath, God filled his lungs with air for the last time and He called him home. One year ago today, I was in Maun, Botswana, sitting in the Red Monkey Cafe, cherishing every moment I got to be connected to their precious free WiFi, when I got the phone call that I had been dreading, the one I didn’t want to get. I’ll never forget hearing my mom say the words that I had so desperately been praying I would never have to hear. I just couldn’t even wrap my brain around what I just heard. Was this some kind of sick nightmare? It felt like my world crumbling all around me and all I could do was sit there and watch, helpless, lost among the rubble. So today is bitter because it means its been a whole year of I miss yous and I wish you could be heres.
But today is also sweet. Its a celebration of a sweet reunion of Father and son, of Creator and creation. For a whole years worth of time here on earth, my Uncle Ron has been the happiest he has ever been. He has been overwhelmed by joy and peace and love. He has been in the presence of his good, good Father. For a whole year now, he has been cancer free. For a whole year, instead of having to watch him suffer, instead of having to standby as cancer wreaked havoc on his earthly body, we’ve gotten to be hopeful and joyful thinking about how he is being held in the hands of our God, wrapped up in His warm embrace, dancing and singing and worshipping and praising. Instead of dying of sickness, the life being sucked out of him day by day by a nasty disease, he is healthy and perfect and full of life.
So today, July 6, 2016 is bittersweet. Life on this side of Heaven is bittersweet, and that’s okay. One of my favorite authors, Shauna Niequist said it best, “Bittersweet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a sliver of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in ever heartbreak, and rejoicing is no less rich when it contains a splinter of sadness. Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul. Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our face and the calluses on our hands.”
And what I’m learning through this bittersweet season of life, is that God is so, so good all the time and that He is the ultimate comforter. Whether bad times strike when you’re surrounded by friends and family who lift you up, who pray for you and on you and around you, who encourage you and fill you woyh truth and point you back to Jesus, or when you’re miles and miles away from your cozy little bubble, alone and afraid and lost, He is the only one who can provide the comfort that you’re looking for, His comfort is like nothing else on this earth. This world He made is extraordinary, beautiful, nourishing, soul-reviving. His creation screams how much He loves us, it echoes His praise, His glory is shining through every single little bit of it, repeating to us over and over again that He is good. And so I’m ready to embrace the bittersweet of life. To say thank you and celebrate during the sweet, to say thank you and grow during the bitter, and to see His presence in all of it, to be more aware of His fingerprints all over this crazy beautiful life. Here’s to real life, it’s both messy and wonderful. Here’s to being committed to telling the real story, because it’s not insignificant, it’s big! Because when we tell the truth about our lives, when we include the broken parts and the secret parts and the beautiful parts, that’s when the Gospel comes to life, an actual real-life redemption story. And finally, here’s to 11 months of many bitter moments and many sweet moments and many bittersweet moments, I’m ready for you!
