My aria

I haven't blogged for a long time, which might be an indication that I'm feeling better and that grief is no longer front and centre in my life anymore. There's truth to that but it could also be that I'm struggling with lack of discipline and procrastination. I had committed myself to doing this as a discipline, whether or not I have any readers.

So here I go again.

Timothy Keller, in his book Walking With God Through Pain and Suffering, tells of a man, whose wife left him. he had crippling legal expense, lost his high paying job, and had to raise his children as a single parent in a low-paying job.

This man, Greg, observed "how in the middle of many operas there was a 'sad and moving solo' in which the main character turned sorrow into something beautiful. Greg said:

This is my moment sing the aria. I don't want to, I don't want to have this chance, but it's here now, and what am I going to do about it? Am I going to rise to rise to the occasion?"

This quote deeply resonated with me.

In the death of my Faye I was given my moment to sing the aria--to bring beauty to the most painful experience of my life to the donor and glory of God.

My voice is a croaky, broken thing at times but I am determined to sing.

Soli deo Gloria.