Almost three fourths of the original blog remains at rest. The journey home was quiet and reserved. There is an ache, a hounding urge to put into words the time between waiting and death. The word, unfinished, is still holding on to grief.
A sense of obligation to our storyline tries to draw further explanation of what transpired in the years of held back words. There is a greater need, by silencing them from escaping, to protect the brief precious season of healing together.
It was difficult to discern how much to let remain in the past and how much to bring forward. While someday a release of our experience may become appropriate, that time is not now. The missing years between chaos and departing are inadequately filled by chronicling a few sweet memories of innocent joy brought forth from the products of our love, our children.
This gap in the timeline first felt like a hindrance to writing anything of substance. Growth requires this challenge to be overcome. Love needs to be more than a what was or could have been. Since being still became stagnant, these first uncomfortable steps are being taken. My sweet children and I move forward with hope, toward all the beauty still to be discovered.
I returned to the landmarks of my past
and found my forgotten yesterdays.
All my yesterdays met my todays
and reconciled the me who was with the me who is.
It was a quiet step toward wholeness.
It freed me to write the prologue to the book of life already written
and opened my heart to an unwritten volume before me.
The me that will be does not have to carry the burdens of the past forward,
nor forget the treasured wisdom only experience and trial produce.
Rita (6 yrs) surrounded by siblings while walking into Publix says, “We’re like a pack of people.”
Maggie – age 7
“When I am an adult can you still boss me around?”
Maggie – age 7: What if Lucas (older brother) doesn’t find a girl who loves him and will marry him?
Me – age much older than 7: I don’t think that will be a problem.
Maggie – still worried: But I want nieces and nephews from Lucas.
Rita – age 5 talking to me while Rebecca is nursing: Is one side the milk and the other the feed?
Reason #773 I love Maggie (6yrs)
Maggie: You are too old to be pregnant.
Me: Why do you think that?
Maggie: Because you have white hair.
Me: That doesn’t mean I am too old. Some people just get white hair sooner than others.
Maggie: It is okay. You look more beautiful with white hair.
Rita (5 year old): Mom, one night I had a nightmare.
Me: What was your nightmare?
Rita: There were two of you.
Question of the day: “Mom were there sinks when you were a kid?”
…and then there were ten. <3
Jason keeps calling me his baby brewer. Not sure how I feel about this nickname.
While pumping gas today I watched the prettiest little damselfly. I finished pumping and continued on to my next errand. When I returned to my van after all my errands were done I discovered my little friend had hitched a ride home with me.
Little things can bring great joy.