For years, I thought I was invincible, doing my best at all I could do. Raising children, being a wife, sticking to my Christian roots, all while never losing sight of who I was.
Then I lost Alan, and there I was, kneeling before the wall that I could never scale, unable to help my children cope, as lost as I was in my own grief. I was broken, and for the first time in a long time, I had completely failed my children, unable to hold myself together, as my son did his best to stay strong for all of us, taking the place of his father, swearing everything would be ok.
For months, I forgot how to pray. I couldn't go to church, for it was there that my Alan lead the young ones to God, acting as both their teacher, an Uncle like figure, and a friend. It broke my hearts to see the sadness in their eyes, pulling me down deeper, drowning me. Until I found myself asking for help from above.
I found myself embraced by the strongest love, that of the Lord I had turned away from. It was as if i was given a second chance at life as I realized just who I was, a daughter of Grace, and saw that perfection wasn't mandatory, only love. Failure was part of life, the harder part was getting back up, but I did.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
