The Storm

It happens when you can't even think anymore.

When you're out of questions, out of possibilities, out of the energy to imagine.

The truth.It cracks like thunder on a still, warm night.
You clutch the sheets that hold you safe and inside every inch of you falls to your knees.
You know what's next
and there it is
the rain.
It dumps down and the room closes in.
You feel how small you are in the moments you realize how big He is.

It happens when you feel like you can't hold out hope anymore.
He reaches down and holds on to you, gripping life for you.

It's a book that flies open to a chapter you needed to read.
A card that falls off a table you've neglected to clean and you needed to see.
He's there
and you can't deny Him
you can't deny yourself of Him.

The lightning fills the rooms
1-2-3
CRACK
the storm is closer than you thought.

Lord hold me.

Father, I hear you.
I don't want to spend my life chasing after a dream that you aren't blessing.
I want to be living the dream You put on my heart.
I want to cling to You and not to my dreams.
I want a life that is secure in You
and if that means I have to let go of MY plan, show me how.

My knuckles are white from clutching the bedsheets while the storm hails down.

The truth:
"Insecurity is a lack of faith. And a lack of faith is sin."

I am utterly dependent on You.
Oh how often I forget this.
I forget it when I feel like I'm writing the checks alone.
when I feel like I'm at the mercy of others.
when I feel...

One dream.
3.5 years.
What now?

The Imminent End

He talks like things have changed

like the future has unfolded the way we dreamed it would one day.
He speaks with hope
relentless trust
belief
with faith.

But here I am
feeling like life is happening to me.Here I am...
damn it's familiar.
The hourglass emptying now and instead of moving forward I'm watching it...
can't take my eyes off of it.
I'll trade in my mommy role for the working mama one.

He talks like things have changed...
like I'll still be here when the sun is up taking care of the life we've built proudly
but I won't be.
He says I can be
but I'd be leveraging our future
leveraging on the coat tails of hope.

But here I am
feeling like I'm without a purpose that could help us make ends meet.

Here I am...
damn it aches.
Playing that comparison game
asking God why our life doesn't look different here
knowing that all I want to do
truly
is emotionally provide for the family I have been given.

Working Mama.
Diaper bag on one arm and briefcase on the other.
It's coming
but he talks like things have changed
and while he believes
I...
I just need to catch my breath.

From Love to Loved

I am haunted by the existence of the past tense
how the thoughts we share of each other can change from is to was.

In one swift moment, any of us can be in the moment of saying "I love you" and then, without even realizing the clock is ticking away your time, force you to say, "I loved you."

We move from making memories to simply remembering them, cherishing them, boxing them up afraid we'll forget them, pulling them up, begging for more and hoping the ones we have aren't ones we wish we could undo.
In the past three months I have cried as two women changed from women I know to women I have known.
A hammer to the heart.
There it is.
They are no longer here and somehow the world is still allowed to turn.

I replay the weekend and my heart can't catch up with my head.

Love is an act we can all relate to: butterflies, obsession, excitement.
Sadness, Anger, Frustration all tied by the same ability to understand what they look like
but grief?
No.
Grief will strip you down and even take your shoes so when you try to run, you feel every awkward step as you break down and are exposed.
None of us process it the same & the spectrum is shocking.

How raw do we become?
How deeply to we unravel?
How together do we remain?

Am I allowed to hurt this badly?
Am I close enough to the loss to cry if they are not?
Why are they laughing & smiling?

I want to be alone.
They are afraid to be.
I lose myself in my head.
They lose themselves in a glass hoping each sip numbs this...
this reality
for just a little bit longer.

The chaos swirls and those still here are forced to admit
it's over now.
But we dance, eat, breathe, and move in the shell of where she lived
and it feels wrong.
It feels WRONG.
She died here.
Everywhere are stitches of her love sewn into the walls and the post it notes stuck around the walls because there was time...
they thought.

We live here.
She lived here.
We are waiting to rise.
She has risen.

Grief.
I love(d) her.

He's Here

My baby boy arrived two months ago and slowly, I'm emerging into my newness and settling into life with two beautiful, healthy boys.

6 lbs. 11 oz
teeny tiny in comparison to his brother but they could not have looked more alike the first day.
He's sweet, gentle, happy, & particular.
He loves to be held, will smile and coo when he's talked to, & completes our family.
He's an eater--that's for sure--but still small.
I try to get my time in with him but admittedly, life with a toddler & a newborn presents it's challenges...
one mommy + two boys = not enough of me.

Oh there's so much more to come but I had to start somewhere...after so long.i'm on my way back.
i just have to figure out--where do i start?!