the /grace/ between
The grace poured out between.
On Keeping Them Safe
(Trigger warning: Brief mention of suicide and self harm.) When I turned forty, I thought I said goodbye to a decade of being tired. Chuckbob wasn’t even a thought. COVID was months away. // I remember when my Second Son was just weeks old, and I was a fresh mom...
Part Five: The Swallowing Up
*These are events occurring in January of 2006.* . . . In a split second, the fear ate me alive. It started with a news story and well meaning phone calls. News of a helicopter crash travels fast in our community and I had seen it on the news. A few key details ....
Happy Pictures …. yay.
Okay so I had to put these up to lighten the mood and also to remind myself that there is redemption and blessings in His time. So for old friends and new, some happy pictures of the loves of my life and two of the gifts I thank God for in (almost) every breath....
Part Four: Grace in the Midst of Grief.
. . . The details from this point forward are unimportant. I received the drugs, if only to shut me up. I was in a Dilaudid-induced haze for much of the day. I have vague memories of Army Wife moving in and out of view, on the phone with Husband, keeping him...
Part Three: Baby H.
*Again, just a reminder these events occurred in November, 2005.* We were banner-making on a Saturday afternoon. I had a new theater friend - you know, the one other person in twenty that loves community theater and will go see every tortured production with no...
Part Two: The Storm Gathering.
Did I not mention I was pregnant when he left? Six weeks pregnant with Baby H. Sometimes, when I remember those moments, I am so desperate to stop time, or to slow it down so much that it moves in little, sparkly, wavy drips. Recorded in flashes of colors. Music...
Part One: The First Goodbye
*In case I haven't made it clear, this is primarily a recounting of events that took place in 2005-2006. This is not happening right now.* We have a death to-do list. I mean, who doesn’t, right? Husband’s initial interment request was that I fly his ashes...
Here Goes . . . The prologue
I'm leaping off a cliff here. When I press publish on this, I can't go back. And I don't want to, but that doesn't erase how scary it is to bare my soul in a public space, to use it for His glory, not mine, desperate to be upside down, to take away my desire to be...