Our family was driving to Montana this past weekend and on the way we drove by a little town called Crow. As we drove past Cliff made the comment at how run down it looked and I told him that it looked like it was an Indian Reservation. So of course since we have instant access to information I quickly looked it up and it was indeed a reservation of the "Crow" nation. As I looked out and reflected upon the history of the Indians (in general) I began pondering about how the end of a once might civilization, in a sense, ended. How sad, humiliating, maddening, depressing that this must have been for those surviving members and warriors.
My mind wondered and started thinking about the "trail of tears." That was the name given to the ethnic cleansing and relocation of the "five civilized tribes" (Cherokee, Creek, Seminole, Chicksaw, and Choctaw nations). Many died from starvation, exposure and disease on the way to their destination.
Ok stay with me, sorry for the brief history lesson. But the term "trail of tears" prophetically describes so many of our moments in life. I am certain that the many years before the settlers came into North America, the Indian tribes, never envisioned how their mighty legacy would end. How generations of teachings, traditions, and knowledge would slowly fall along that trail of tears.
I can't say that when I was young, playing soccer, hanging out with my friends, going to college, dating, getting married, that I ever envisioned my own trail of tears. I never ever forsaw my path of despair, disappointment and sadness. Now mind you, I was never mighty or did anything extraordinary. But I had so many dreams in my mind that I would be bigger than I was. I would do awesome, life changing things. I was going to be the "teacher of the year" best wife ever, soccer mom of the year. The moment the doctors said "biliary atresia" my "internal might" was the first thing to fall on my own personal trail. My body crumbled internally as I held my child and the doctors were explaining this terrible disease my baby had. My dreams for him, for me, for my family were not dreams anymore. I didn't know what they were. I felt betrayed, scared, lonely. Cliff and I had only been married a year. I was 23 years old, what the heck did I know about life, let alone the possibility of death?
Why would God give me a life just to turn around and take him away? As days passed and weeks and then months my trail grew longer and longer. I was living, because I took a breath every second, but I was dying at the same time. How could my mighty warrior be losing this battle I was fighting so hard to win? Why wasn't I good enough to keep my child? Why was he better off in Heaven? Why were the other mothers holding their babies and I was touching dirt? Why did the Americans have to build trains, expand and grow beyond anyone's expectations? Why did the Indians have to suffer because of it? I wish I had the answers to all of those questions, but all I can come up with is that is was all because that's what needed to happen. We have all witnessed that you can't stop progression. You can delay it, you can pretend that it's not happening, but in life there always has to be that next step. Nothing lasts forever, nothing, except for one thing and that's our Saviors love for us.
I have realized this weekend that while those people were walking on the trail of tears there was someone behind them picking up everything that they were let falling. All of my tears and part of my soul have been picked up and will continue to be picked up. Alex's trail led him exactly to where he needs to be. My trail is hopefully leading me there too. I have certainly stumbled, strayed and stood still along the way. But I know that I have to walk through this because I have no choice. Life moves on, changes happen, I can rebuild my dreams and myself it's just going to be different. It's never going to be as mighty as I once dreamed but it can still be strong and good. A part of me was dropped and is now waiting for me to come claim it. I never believed that I would be able to get it back but for some reason I understand now more than ever that each day I laugh, each day that I have a friend or family member support me, care about me, each day that I do get to hug my kids, and each day that I get on my knees, are all ways that I am putting myself back together. I can't do it alone and I certainly don't want to.
As I think back to driving past that reservation, I wish that it would have been this magnificent, vibrant, thriving, the most amazing town I had ever seen. I decided that I don't want people to drive by and look upon me as I looked upon that reservation. I don't want my own trail of tears to be the end of me, but merely a part of me. I hope each of you who read this can look at your own trail and see how you can make it mighty and great. Alex's death will continue to remind me of what I lost but it also reminds me of what I stand to gain. It has been a big price for me to pay to learn all of this and yet there is someone who is mightier and greater than us all who paid a bigger price on the hopes and faith that the returns will be even greater. My trails of tears will one day make me mightier than I could ever imagine but for now I will continue to just walk slowly.
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