An Unexpected Journey

It flickered and sputtered and then died out.  I struck a second match and held the orange flame close to the tired, bent wick.  This time it caught and the savory smell of berries filled the room.  Outside the rain was pelting the house.  Lighting a candle felt cozy...  peaceful... happy... something I haven't done since October 8th.    Re-entry.  Like a space ship approaching earth's atmosphere, I feel I am approaching re-entry into life.  It is looming before me, and my course is propelling me towards the painful process.  It is impossible to get back to life on earth without blazing through the atmosphere.  Dangerous.  Fiery.  Unavoidable.  Unless I want to float adrift in a sea of darkness and separated from those I love forever.  My life has had no normalcy, no routines, since the wreck and months of bed rest.  I haven't had a schedule or worked or planned meals or even gone to the grocery store....

Life is about moments.  Moments to hold tiny babies close.  Moments to rub their silky cheeks on mine.  Moments to kiss their soft, downy heads.  Moments to comfort their cries.  Sometimes I wonder if I will get to keep them...  the babies, I mean.  Will I get to take them to kindergarten?  Will we see them dance in a recital?  Will we get to watch them grow up?   I wrote about moments in the journal of letters I kept for Makiah since she was born... March 2007 "My dear, sweet Makiah,     You are 10 months old now and such a joy!  My heart is full of things to write you.  Your personality is absolutely delightful!  You love to laugh- being surprised and chased by Daddy are your favorites.  You absolutely glow when we sing "If Your Happy & You Know It."  You clap and stomp your feet and do the wiggles.  You love to drop things and say "uh oh" with such seriousness.  You are saying ...

 It came on my birthday.  A posthumous gift of sorts.  I gingerly touched the smooth brown surfaces and ran my finger across the pointy tops.  Makiah's little fingers had gingerly collected this bag of tiny brown acorns.  She loved "tiny fings."  The last time I picked her up from a play date with her best buddies, she cried as we drove away from their house.  "I forgot my acorns, Mommy!"  I assured her that we would get them the next time we came over.  There was no next time.  My friend sent them home to me last week in a tiny plastic bag.  I wanted her acorns.  I had promised her we would get them. The girls are here now, and we are so thankful for their health and safe delivery.  We are also thankful for the many, many prayers offered on their behalf.  As wonderful as it is to hear crying and have tiny, soft heads nuzzle into our necks and shoulders again, I have made an unexpected discovery.  My grief is u...

Thank you Ursula!  http://www.ursulapagephotography.com/blog/?p=4367

Alena & Abby Our nest is no longer empty... "Even the sparrow has found a home and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young-  a place near your altar, oh Lord Almighty, my King and my God."   Psalm 84:3 www.ursulapagephotography.com