CS Lewis once said that "grief is like the sky, it covers everything." In recent weeks, our family has found that this is so very true. It seems that there is no right or wrong way to travel this path of grief. I have created this blog in hopes that some day we will be able to look back on our journey and see written proof that our great God never leaves us. God is good all the time.

Celebrating Laynee

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Friday, April 5, 2013


My heart has been heavy for my little girl lately.  Reality is that the heavy, aching heart never really goes away.  It's there... always... with every beat... with every breath.  But some days are extra heavy. 

As much as I love the balmy, springtime weather that those of us in the midwest have been enjoying this week, I cannot help noticing that warmer weather brings greater aching.  Perhaps it was her almost obsessive love for the outdoors that causes me to be more keenly intuned to her abscence when the weather is nice. Or perhaps it is the dreadful fact that she died there, in our back yard. 

I absolutely love this weather.  The sunshine seems to reach down into my soul and transform me, making me almost giddy.  The warmth, the new life, the color, the fresh smell of spring dirt add a sense of  exuberance to ordinary day.  I cannot get enough of spring time

And yet.

There are sharp stabs of pain- pain that comes from being too long without my youngest daughter.  Sometimes it is almost as if I can feel her there beside me as I work in the yard, most especially, in her garden.  I picture her, in my mind's eye, running and dancing through the grass.  This image brings nearly knee buckling pain.  The sun, rising and setting, paints marvelous pictures this time of year, pictures that never cease to remind me of her.  The more extraordinary the color, the more I long for her. 

 Today, for the first time, I placed Kruz in her swing hanging from our swing set and my heart clenched tight.  I wonder if, in spite of the fact that by now she would be too big for it,  I will always think of it as hers.  This evening as I was preparing to bring Moise and Kruz in from outside I missed her so desperately, knowing, instinctively that she would be a little mother hen to her baby brother. She would be such a big helper.  It seems that everywhere I turn there are little reminders of what should be but is not. 

At times I feel exhausted with the constant, unending task of trying to balance grief and joy.  How do I, forever, allow the sorrow to be exactly what it is, without allowing it to steal the joy that is my life? How do I do this from now until forever?

1 comment:

  1. JUST left a message on the other blog about balancing the joy and the grief. The joy and the sadness. I knew this how you were feeling. How could you not. I understand it you know. Not the same depths of sorrow, but I do know.

    How do you do it? Well, we just do it. And sure, we have a chose, we can give in and give up. But I do believe that those gifts that surround us, those we love and nurture and care for daily are what keep us going. They need us and we actually need them more perhaps. We need that joy that they spread effortlessly. It pushes out the darkness.

    You will do it as you have been doing it. With grace and poise and beauty and Laynee, right by your side. I know you will friend. I know you will..