by Belinda Lams

I've been wrestling with a blog all day, not sure what to say or how to say it. I don't want to let this day pass until I share, so here it is.

9 years ago today, my little daughter passed away. 

It was a rainy Thursday when she drew her last breath. My life would never be the same. 

I have spent the better portion of this day exploring the terrain of my shattered heart. It is just as broken as it was 9 years ago.  Was it supposed to heal?  

I bravely pulled out my journal from the day of her passing and the many months that followed. That mother was distraught. She begged for signs...answers. She was searching for some way to make sense of everything that had happened, but came up short most of the time.  

As I sat in a Rosh Hashana service this last week, the Rabbi read a poem about reading poems. It suggested that we try to squeeze the meaning out of poetry, instead of dance within it. I think that's what I have tried to do. I have wanted to force the poem to tell me what it means, but it won't divulge. 

There is beauty in brokenness. I don't know why. 

Tomorrow I will get back up on my horse and continue to ride through my life. But today, I was compelled to step off and reflect on where I've come from, where I am now, and what is compelling me to dare ride again.

(Photo Effect by Marsha Skidmore.  Thank you! xoxo)