those onions all translucent in butter.
and i reach for that old wooden spoon,
the one that he gave to his gramma that year.
and i don't really remember what year that it was, only that it was given on a shoestring budget and a mama who got all creative.
i can picture him, with his eyes all bright and his mouth held just-that-way, holding that tool in his hand.
and he engraves his name,
burns it into the wood all soft
and over the years and the washing and the time...
he is still there.
i hold time in my hands as i cook food that nourishes,
and his name embedded in wood is embedded on my heart.
we decorate the tree and name it george,
little ones run and pull off the ornaments and cry when they can't put them back on just so.
and i think of their papa
and the christmas tree he searched out that very last year,
the second of two because the first one wasn't just right.
and how quickly it came down when he was finally found and how the passage of time doesn't diminish the mark that he left on this heart.
and tonight, mingled with the sadness is a small measure of joy...
joy that i knew him,
that i was given the chance to love him,
joy that i will see him once again.
hope.
a precious word.
a word that continues to give.
and in this season of quiet dark, where sadness could be so easy to get lost in,
His people shine like the stars around us,
drawing us into a family that share dna bought by His blood.
and our family of 5 that found ourselves here,
alone and unknown,
is growing...
and the hearts that didn't have to,
do.
what was broken that dark december morning almost 2 years ago,
what was uprooted and displaced a little less than 11 months ago...
is finding us home,
finding us healing,
finding us trying to love well
while being found loved well.
and a season that bears the mark of great sorrow,
continues to point me to the One Who bears the marks of Great Sacrifice...
{all family photos were taken by our mr. bob...}
