If the shoes fits, wear it

When my mama died the hardest place for me to go was to church. Church is such an emotional experience for me and when you already have so many emotions bubbling up and then you add grief, well let's just say it was hard. At the time we lived 45 minutes from church, so there was no, well, I'll just run back home if I can't handle it. So I would ride up to church and often end up sitting in the van. I still remember the day when I ventured in. We began our Sunday with prayer in the church library. Usually there were a handful of us. I was doing fine when all of a sudden, I could fell the enormous wave of grief about to engulf me. Prayer time had begun. I couldn't make it to the door without making a scene so I opened my eyes so the tears could spill down and maybe I could make it. As I opened my eyes I saw John's shoes. John was 9 at the time. John had on two different shoes. Not two loafers or two tie shoes noooooo. He had on one tie shoe and one loafer. It took a minute for it to register in my brain what I was seeing. And then I got tickled. Soon my tears were tears of laughter, quiet laughter, albeit we were in prayer time. I thought about Psalm 139. He has searched me and He knows me. He knows when I sit and when I rise. He is familiar with all my ways. He Knew I needed a light-hearted moment and He gave me one. I made it all the way through church that day. I still couldn't go all day every Sunday yet but I could see glimers of hope and I knew someday I'd be back.