It's probably justice . . .

. . . that the ripples of my past are never completely gone.  The weekend was very nice, and I'm especially glad that my bride got such quality time with her siblings. But for me, for all the blessings, it was not without its challenges, too, not all of which were related to my sins.

• It was hard listening to the family eulogize a woman who both marginalized my wife within her own family and hated me all the way to her grave. Of course, she was their mom, and there was much to love and respect about her, especially for her those who weren't "daddy's little girl" (or her family). Outwardly, she always showed respect to me, I suppose, but she treated my loved ones pretty poorly throughout their lives.
• It was wonderful listening to the siblings sit out beside the pool and reminisce by candlelight. Even as I sat there, there was a difficult contrast of knowing that the closest people I have to share such times with are my cousins, whom I love but who are naturally not as close to me as my sister was. It was nice to get together with my aunt and cousin on Sunday, but not nearly the same relationship.
• Teri has one brother-in-law who doesn't really seem to know how to relate to me, and I can't seem to do anything about that.

Still, the weekend overall was very nice and a lot of fun. Now that the fun parts of the weekend are over, I'm feeling a bit of withdrawal, as I head back to normal. Then the mom of a childhood friend posted a picture today of her dogs that she called "the pesky little sister," and dedicated it to everyone who ever had one. I wanted to ask her if she was trying to kill me.

I have to get my eyes back where they belong. I have to believe that there is a God who is greater than the pain in my heart, both the pain of loss and the self-inflicted suffering. Sometimes -- too often, really -- I consider the vastness of the universe and I don't believe that God exists at all, nor that I matter in the slightest. It seems then as if believing in him is a choice I have to make, a choice that is beyond me. Only when I'm praising and worshiping him does he seem real, and only then do I feel significant.

I know that the people who love me should be enough for me. Maybe that's part of having my eyes where they belong, too.