I woke up Sunday morning reciting a verse in my head: “He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted.”
I have a reminder on my phone so that verse, Isaiah 61:1, pops up every Sunday morning, but this week I thought about it before I even reached for my phone. Actually, I know that verse so well that I don’t really need the reminder to know those words. I have lived those words.
Last week, I wrote about anticipating my peonies popping open every spring. Lately though, I’ve been anticipating another yearly event, although I guess dreading it is the more accurate way to describe it.
You see, Sunday was the 8th anniversary of Cody’s epilepsy diagnosis.
My greatest joy was born in October.
Four years later, October ushered in my greatest heartbreak.
Obviously, I knew it had been coming for…well, since the 7th anniversary. But this year, we had scheduled our fourth fundraising concert on the same day so at least something good would come from something bad.
But once the planning and preparing were finished, I spent a day depressed. Because no matter how much we were eagerly anticipating the concert, the dread of facing one more anniversary and starting one more year of epilepsy also loomed ahead of us.
