summer fun

More to come soon...

seasons

The following is a portion of a letter I wrote to my friend Gen (who was also Caleb's nurse while in Minnesota). I find that I finally did express myself a little so thought I'd copy it here.


"I have been struggling with what to share on my blog. Last week while organizing all the school materials I came across all the leaves for fall. Placing them in a small basket I felt like weeping. Just like that. One minute fine, the next unraveled. Pushing it back, I kept working until about two in the morning. A couple of hours later Ayisha had a really out of control seizure. I couldn't go to the hospital. I just looked at Steve and asked him to go. I was too tired and triggered. I knew I needed to stay back to catch my breath. I was actually scared to go to the hospital, which hasn't happened in a while. We've been there plenty since Caleb died. After several hours I drove over with Emma and Amanda so Steve could come home (he'd then take the twins). By that point Ayisha had woken up and was able to drink and eat a few bites. The doctor said she didn't need to stay overnight! HUGE relief! Steve decided to stick around until they discharged (which rolled into four hours of course). We all grabbed root beers, piled on the bed and " cushy" vinyl chairs and watched two movies! It was actually fun! Thank you Lord! I really needed that one.

After six years you'd think I would be prepared. Every time we near autumn my inner being knows. Caleb's beautiful birth. His tiny white body. October's transplant, his two black eyes. The shimmering gold, reflecting glory only possible in death. Red maples and my son's blood. No platelet count. Every year it hits me anew. This is the hardest season. Maybe harder than spring. I don't know. I can feel it in my bones even when I don't think about it.

I have realized that I feel very private about some of this. And I think it has to do with wounds from people during the early grieving process. I have to double check and see if it is bitterness or unforgiveness. I think it is simply protection. I used to share on Caleb's site but can't seem to do it anymore. Maybe it is a season of my life, I'm not sure. I just feel silent. Strange, huh?

I haven't been too depressed or anything. In fact I am enjoying my days immensely. Amanda taught me how to do a front flip off the diving board today! Booya! And I had fun taking Ayisha down the big slide over and over again! We baked banana bread today and slopped up Brazilian black bean stew! We are having great, hilarious, profound conversations and I am trying to really listen."

I've found that summers offer a reprieve of sorts when it comes to the currents of grief. The searing beauty of Minnesota's seasons have been engraved into my inner fabric. Winter's snow illustrates widespread grace, a beautiful covering of the pain and ugliness. The gift of His Son. Fall is synonymous with death of life, life in death. Then spring. The valley of the shadow and the beginning of a long wait -- a hope to come. The magnificence of Easter. Life springs anew.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus!