It’s been a year since Dad died. A year since the excruciating day we said our goodbyes. November 13. It seems like yesterday and a decade ago all at the same time. Funny how time warps itself when traumatic situations occur. I am somewhere in the folded pages of that time trying to find my way. My mind flashes back to his last few days as if I am still there. The last time I looked in his eyes, both his and mind filled with tears. The last hand holding. The last time leaving the hospital…without him. That leads to remembering the giant hole in my life.

Michael’s death seems to have ripped any scab that might have been forming, right off of my grief. My heart is tender to the touch, barely pieced together. Mom’s death started an avalanche. The ground dropped out from under my feet. What I didn’t see coming, was the continuation. Dad’s death kept it rolling. Michael’s buried me fully. Now, I am trying to figure which way is up.

For some reason, while I am lost in the rubble of grief, I am led back to the sparrow. The one who worries not about food or shelter, but is taken care of from God’s own hand. (Matthew 6:25-27) The one who does not fall to the ground without the notice of God himself. (Matthew 10:21-39) The one who sings every morning outside my porch. The one who is small, but seen by God.

I remember the song His Eye is on the Sparrow (Selah’s version); a very special song to me. When I had cancer, I listened to it on repeat every time I was in the chemo chair. That song particularly is so clear when you are sitting in that chair. Now, I am a sparrow again…with a broken wing and a lost song. I cannot fly at the moment. Nor do I sing. I sit in my nest and wait.

What I am waiting for is healing. My wing to be whole again. My little voice to sing because I’m happy. To sing because I am free. Like the song says. I know it will come in time. I am content to wait. Healing takes time. Often, a lot of time. This particular compounding grief is heavy. So very heavy. And I admit my heart is troubled. I couldn’t fly if I had to at the moment. It’s best to rest. To wait. To feel. To remember. Even in my current state, His eye is on the sparrow and He watches over me. I’ve lost my song, but he sent me this one. A reminder of his goodness, in the avalanche of loss that is my life.

His Eye is on the Sparrow

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Disclaimer: Before everyone calls 911…I am not in an emergency situation. I am hurting, but I am not in a black hole. I have a wonderful support system and a great therapist. Thanks for caring. I love you all. 🙂