Life, Part 2

Welcome! I'm so glad we all made it here together! This feels rather monumental. My first real live blog post... I'm excited to have this new, fresh place to share my heart and my happenings with you. Breaking with CaringBridge—and with cancer. But not with all the ways Chris changed me, shaped me, loved me. And not with all the happy-heart memories.

And the six-month mark seemed a fitting time to make that break. Six months, after all, is a half-year.

So here we are—a  half-year into this new life. Life, part 2. And we are upheld by the Savior's sweet whispers of comfort. Whispers in the darkness. This is a place to tell you about those—in  the light—and from the housetops (Matthew 10:27). He is so very good. My Savior and my sweet friend.

I am navigating life a little less blindly these days. Things seem clearer. Priorities have shifted, and I'm glad. Jesus is so very near to me. Daily, He cuts away the bandages I and others have tried to plaster over the wound on my heart. And He slathers on the most healing and soothing salve. So that I can breathe normally again, not ravaged by the pain of the loss.

This picture was taken on a vacation to Bayfield, WI a couple weeks ago

Erika has now lived almost a fifth of her life—18% of her 33 months—without her daddy. That's a pretty sizable percentage. I wonder, does it feel like that to her? 18% of my life would be 5.5 years. I wonder how I will feel in 5 years. She seems, for the most part, to be thriving and loving life. Oh, but I see her little, aching heart sometimes in her eyes. The look of longing as she watches other kids be thrown in the air by their daddies. And I hear the sweet, desperate, heart-breaking question, "How 'bout me?" And I see in her the sheer joy of being indulged or the crushing disappointment of being refused. I hear her slip and call Uncle Jake "Daddy" because that’s what her cousins call him. And I HATE correcting her. I want her to have a daddy of her own. I ache to see her broken over the void in her life.

My prayer then, as her mom, is to show her Jesus. To teach her to bring Him all her pain. To infuse His name into every conversation. To model complete and utter dependence. And I hear her little child-like faith. "Jesus made my owie all better." Yes, Baby, and He can make your heart all better, too.

So then, we lay open our hearts to the Healer of all wounds. We beg Him to cut away the dirty bandages we've put there and to give us more of that precious salve. And He liberally douses our hearts. Over and over again.

And healed daily, we walk forward into Life, part 2.

(A very special thanks to my sweet friend, Hannah Beasley of Hannah Rose Beasley Art & Design www.hannahrosebeasley.com for this blog design. I taught her Sunday School when she was in 2nd grade! And now, here she is—a lovely, talented adult with a successful business doing what she loves. Hannah, thank you for being so fabulous at what you do—for "getting me" and bringing to visual life what I couldn't articulate but knew was perfect when I saw it. I'm so very grateful to you for both your talent and your love for me. Much love to you!)

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