it's a road we take practically every day, but on this day heavy clouds and snow had descended, blocking out the mountains...blocking out the familiar landmarks.
i've watched as the stick marking the depth in the backyard has been slowly covered, as each foot was obscured by the softly falling snow. 9 inches in 24 hours...3 feet of snow layered at last look.
and i've felt...lost, with my face turned behind me.
as though my landmarks this week have disappeared and i found myself mentally preparing to go back home to my sweet little yellow house on the street all quiet and familiar. to my friends and my coffee days and the happy memories we had made in those old and dear walls.
as though this whole last year has been a cruel joke and the man who became a father to me in every way will be home any minute. i'll hear his step on the landing, hear his voice call out a greeting, feel his hand on my shoulder and hear him say one more time how thankful he was that Jesus brought me into tony's life. as though i'll have the chance to look him in the eye and tell him that no, i'm the one who is blessed, i'm the one who doesn't deserve this family, this love, this acceptance.
my eyes have been fixed on what has been and what i wish for, and i've felt adrift in this middle space as we wait...and wait...and wait for home.
it's the in between that drives us mad.
it's the life in between, the days of walking lifeless, the years calloused and simply going through the hollow motions, the self-protecting by self-distracting, the body never waking, that's lost all capacity to fully feel - this is the life in between that makes us the wild walking dead.
and my sister, the one who is my iron, the one who pushes me away from dead-walking and backwards gazing wrote the words strong,
i will help you,
and when i couldn't open my gratitude journal, when the days were too heavy and the sorrow too deep, she listed for me,
~ that {the first possible location of *home*} fell through
~ i am tall
~tony makes amazing coffee
~God meets me in the lows
and through her persistence that i continue to be thankful, He reminds me,
life-changing gratitude does not fasten to a life unless nailed through with one very specific nail at a time. little nails and a hammer can rebuild a life...
focusing on the drifts of snow, the ones that hover near my waist and threaten to overtake my shoulders, leave me overwhelmed and weary...looking for any means of escape and drive me dangerously close to looking for something other than what i have.
it's when i focus on each snowflake floating down and dancing in the wind that i keep my focus here, in this moment...with Him.
and so i grab hold of the nails of a day and drive them in hard...staking His claim, His place, in my life...
{glimpses through *303-*382}
:: tiramisu giving ~ joy receiving
:: snow-flakes on windows
:: picking up a pen again
:: candlelight
:: clean water to bathe a sick child
:: listening to him and his mama
:: the weight of a book in my hands
:::::
:: his grumpy, little, just-woke-up self
:: the creak of a rocking chair
:: the cold of a circlet of courage around my neck, against my skin
:: the younger two, on their bellies, racing down stairs head first
:: band-aids
:: the way they giggle, daddy!
:: strings of purple beads
:: the way he flirts
:: cold metal in hand
:: big ol' saint bernards
:: stacked wood
:: white-picket fences
:: jumping out to grab coffee
:: locked doors
:: walking towards him
:: the way he watches me
:: coffee
:: him in glasses
::mop and bucket
:::::
:: bright colours
:: knowing where home will be
:: her love of princesses
:: watching liv make friends
:: lyla snuggled up next to me
:: wiping chocolate off of elias' face
:: listening to her hum
:::::
:: clean bathrooms
:: scrubbing toilets
:: cleaning supplies
:: random stuffed toys on my lap
:: my name, mommy
:: fresh americano
:: that he gets it for me
:: hearing i love you,
:: especially when i don't deserve it
:: talks with a dear aunt
:: talks with a dear aunt
:::::
:: sitting on the stairs with him, talking it through
:: sitting in the sun
:: seeking Him together
:: words between sisters that sharpen and strengthen
:: the way he rubs his left eye when he gets sleepy
:: her foot on my leg
:: french braids in her hair
:: quiet sunday mornings
:: feet supported by old foot stools
:: sharing
:: belly-button discoveries
:: unexpected generosity of family
:: sun on snow
:: clumpy snow-covered branches
:: snow-cream
