i listen to the sounds of my girls, them too curled up in blankets as they listen to "bob the builder" building things with his odd assortment of...friends.
elias is still dreaming.
my sink still filled with the testament to a full and happy morning of coffee and muffins and laughter and new friends.
and yet my words dance on the edges of my frayed story.
one that stops me from writing and yet fills my heart with the way He loves...
blogs, at times, can be too public for deep private pain.
but what of the one who finds herself on the other end of a shattered family?
who faces easters and christmases and birthdays and mother's days and father's days without?
when a fork in the road is set before those who carry the same blood and the choice becomes too great and choices are made and no matter what path is chosen, He is there and when there is no longer a father, a mother to guide or give counsel...He does.
to embrace one story and ignore the other keeps me imprisoned to shame.
and yet, to embrace both...
i have been reading and pouring over books, words, His Words, my journal. my soul in a near constant state of needing to know that He is close.
and these ones jumped out and brought out the deep emotions i have been trying to stifle,
many will be orphans in a crowded world,
longing for the security they were supposed to find
in their own family.
~The Mission of Motherhood, sally clarkson
in my moments of quiet, He has been speaking to my heart.
He has brought me out of a painful situation in an extremely painful way and while we physically may have moved forward, the eyes of my heart have not.
we chose a different path yet still i find myself looking over my shoulder, hoping that i will see a different outcome.
i lift my eyes to the mountains...
words so powerful when he left us,
words made true as i look out my front door...
but He longs for the same to be manifested in my heart.
the words dance on the frayed edges of my story...
the air swirls in the empty places that stand vacant with memories of dreams and hopes dashed...
yes...the places so full are drained empty until,
the song of thankfulness begins.
and as i sing, the words falter, they tremble. they sound foolish and mundane...
until they grow stronger and deeper and more passionate,
for the thankfulness that fills my heart and my mouth pumps His life through my veins making my dna His, and where there was a heart on the fringes, i am pulled in close and reminded how utterly i have been made His own...
glimpses of 818-836
*my home
*the four little birdies gracing the dish he brought home
* the way tony loves
*midnight rocking sessions with my boy
*early morning chaos
*early morning tears
*they way he throws every. single. piece. of. food. on. the. floor.
*that i *get* to sweep it up
*a new way of viewing motherhood
*hope in despair
*joy
*being surprised by the loveliness here; the people, the places
*a friend who pays for coffee as a surprise
*being known
*kindness in tantrums
*new faces around my kitchen table
*familiar messes
*that He still fills my home with laughter
*peace
