I went to a baby shower last night. One in the middle of a string of them.
And I was called brave.
I thought about this on the way home, tears trickling down my cheeks at their own will, I unable to stop them.
It's not really brave though.
It's just life.
Like someone living through mother's day after loosing their mother.
Or someone enduring their anniversary after loosing their spouse of many years.
Or a birthday party without your little one there anymore.
It's not brave, its survival.
We're not called to life that is easy. We're not called to shun away from the hard. We have to walk through it and endure it and thrive in it.
That doesn't mean that infertile people have to go to baby showers. Or lonely people can't stop celebrating the things that hurt. Or that those who loose a mother don't hole up in their house on mother's day.
It just means that you have to walk the path that Christ is calling you to walk and do it with as much grace as you can muster.
Even if it means the tears make permanent roads down your cheeks.