5 months later.
It's been almost one year since the chaos & turmoil began. In May last year was when our world was shaken with one sonogram, and that was just the beginning... So as I heard the pitter patter of little feet coming to my bed this morning I
smiled. Those pitter patters are
hard to hear in the wee hours of the morning – or the middle of the night, but
today they were a sweet sound.
Last week I walked by the refrigerator and glanced over to
see what appeared to be “normal.”
A calendar splattered with different colored sharpie scribblings of new
things filling our life- Tball, ballet, church functions, friends' birthday
celebrations, company in town, things of spring & happiness. The business of life has resurfaced...
and I’m ok with it. As January
approached I dreaded the normalcy of life. After months of chaos the monotony of it all was
daunting. I both longed for and
feared the days of taking Ryder to school, going to the Y, going to Target
& Chickfila and MOMs club. How
I would function in all the regular life situations after what we’d gone
through was confusing. How would I
carry on without that extra little one that was supposed to be strapped to me
in a baby bjorn? But life has
carried on. Things have resumed
and gotten easier.
Last week when I picked Ryder up from the Y, he screamed that he'd left the picture he'd drawn (I thought to myself, great, another colored picture to carry home and put somewhere). As they handed it to me tears filled my eyes...
If you could see the pictures Ryder colored in the fall and winter you'd understand my ridiculous joy. I don't even have one to show because I discretely discarded of them hoping they wouldn't look like that forever. They were dark, angry lines that you can only make a crayon do with strong (angry) force. Every picture was a dark black or blue and none in the lines, and none 'pretty.' So this colorful happy pictures was so much more than a silly car that day.
In an effort of "newness" as I would call it I've been on a quest to paint. Furniture, walls... whatever. My dad texted me this morning and said, "The kids better not sit still or you may paint them too." It's true. So after a week of getting to know the man at Benjamin-Moore, this weekend my sweet, long-suffering husband repainted the house. I needed fresh, clean, comforting colors. And he did that for me- knowing full well it wouldn't fix my problems, but maybe ease the day to day pain along the way.
Thank you Jesus for plucking us out of darkness... and into color. For calling us, "Out upon the waters... where grace abounds... and faith will stand. Letting my soul rest in Your embrace..."
So on this seemingly random Monday morning I find myself dancing around the {completely disastrous} house with Paisley to the blaring sounds of the new Justin Timberlake album. :) Before I could imagine I am genuinely happy again. And not feeling guilty for it.
I can still feel the “Tug of it” There is still an
ache for that sweet boy, but there is what seems to be forwardness and a new normal.
