healing happens when we share our stories
Someone said to me recently, or maybe I read it somewhere, that "to those who count themselves blessed, more blessings will come." When I look back on 2018, I would name that statement as the truth which defined my days. 2018 has not been without its own share of sadnesses. Yet, when I review the year, it is in fact the blessings that stand out.
Before their father died, he sang a song to them which his father had sung to him. Now that he's gone, I sing to them with sweetly altered lyrics.
In a month that seemed especially dark and icy, it's was wonderful to be able to hold a brand new baby. In both my heart and my arms I felt light, joy, hope and peace from God.
In February 2016, the lives of Lindsey Atkins and Lizzie Lindberg went through epic changes that culminated to a profound juxtaposition on Saturday, February 20th. These circumstances compelled us to write our stories together.
At that time and even right now I wonder, was it worth it? Was it truly better to have passionately loved Eric and to have felt the tearing anguish of his absence than to never have loved him at all? Most of the time my answer to those questions is a resounding "YES." Other times, when breathing becomes like rocket science and surviving is my only goal… I wonder if love is worth the pain of loss.
The loss of a beloved pet is one of the hardest things I have ever experienced. It is the loss of one who loved unconditionally and was there when it seemed like no one else was. It is the loss of a helper, a tender teacher, a faithful listener, a friend. It's the changing of lovely memories into sad remembrances because of obvious absence. It's the creation of sacred moments that once seemed inconsequential. Today, I remember my grief for Teddy less frequently than I once did, and the reality of his absence affects the tone of my day much more subtly than it did when the cut was fresh. Yet, the unique type of grief I experienced when my Teddy left this world is not something I expect to ever forget.
When tragedy fell on my family, I doubted more than anything else that I would ever be happy again on earth. In those days, the darkness was so dense that even the brightest truths couldn't cut through the heaviness in my heart. I truly did not expect to experience belly-laughing good times ever again. I assumed I would taste joy, because of the hope of Heaven after this world, and I predicted that someday I would smile at lovely memories. I did expect to see some kind of light at the end of this tunnel. But happiness? Not likely. Not in this lifetime. Until bright spots started breaking through the cracks of my brokenness.
Jesus is my Wonderful Counselor and Mighty God. He is an Everlasting Father to me and to my children. He is the Prince of Peace. Because of these things, I know that He is good, and I can trust His government & direction for my steps. (Isaiah 9:6). I am so very thankful that Jesus came unto me, that He came Unto Us.
Jesus is my Wonderful Counselor and Mighty God. He is an Everlasting Father to me and to my children. He is the Prince of Peace. Because of these things, I know that He is good, and I can trust His government & direction for my steps. (Isaiah 9:6). I am so very thankful that Jesus came unto me, that He came Unto Us.
Lately I’ve been learning that some memories and traditions, like friends, are silver and others are gold. It is important to make new ones, but to also keep the old. For as long as I can remember, I've been going with my family to get the Christmas tree. Last year I began a new tradition of staying home to reflect on the previous year and prepare for the next. (Part 1)
Rayford Story 