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Yearly Archives: 2014

 

every year I dread making sugar cookies because I’m terrible at it… but every year when the kids decorate the cookies, I’m so happy that I baked them

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thank goodness for Trader Joes… this holiday we did everything fun, but nothing that we didn’t want to do. so the gingerbread was store bought, but the creations were all handmade little boy goodness

CookiesW_01CookiesW_02CookiesW_03CookiesW_04CookiesW_05CookiesW_06CookiesW_07CookiesW_08CookiesW_09CookiesW_10CookiesW_11CookiesW_12CookiesW_13CookiesW_1412-22-2014

 

Every year we get a tree for free, a bedraggled, lonely Charlie Brown tree. And every year it’s perfect and well loved by our family

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It has been another year living this life where losing a child is reality. There was a time when I didn’t know this

What I have I done with this gift of life? How have I survived this cage of time? another year here while my child runs eternity

I have brushed my teeth, cried in the middle of the night, tried and failed and tried again, hugged my boys a million times, hid in the bathroom for a moment’s peace, lost another precious child, bought groceries countless times, cooked dinners, burned dinners, beat paths back and forth to everywhere we go in a day, slid into bed beside my man, woken up to sunrise after sunrise, written words stumbling after what I feel, captured split seconds of all this time through my camera’s lens, cursed and complained, screamed at God in the shower, heard words from a friend a lifeline, laughed silly, eaten ice cream, put one foot in front of another, tried to walk through the emptiness with my hands full.

This is what I have done in another year. And my Joshua is beyond all this time. My son and me, we are in Jesus and so we are not as far apart as I feel.

But what words do I have this year? I want miracle. I want all to be new and nothing to be lost. I want to see more than I want faith.

The loss has grown into a chain of losing, that I know will grow ever longer. This year is too heavy, I can not breath beneath it. The only choice I have is to sink, quiet. Then I see like the light fading as the wave presses down – I see a brilliant blur of miracle. Ever washing water, His grace is holding me.

 

“Drink your wine. Laugh from your gut. Burden your moments with thankfulness. Be as empty as you can be when that clock winds down. Spend your life. And if time is a river, may you leave a wake.” – N.D. Wilson

I spent a magical night capturing the story of this beautiful family.  A few hours out of the myriad moments of car seats, diapers, ice cream and miracle.