An Unexpected Journey

Dearest Makiah, I remember those first few days after you left us.     Time moved so excruciatingly slow.     We had never been apart more than a night or two.     Every second without you was swallowed up in missing you.     I couldn’t imagine how I was going to survive for years- a lifetime- until I was able to hold you again. And the tears and the minutes dripped by so painfully slow.     Now I can hardly believe it’s been 14 years!    When I look back it seems as if I stepped on a bullet train with the days and nights of diapers and hair bows and bedtime kisses from all your sisters whirring by in a blur.    It’s so different now with all 4 of your sisters in the double digits.    Some people dread the teen years, but I am loving middle school mom life!    We share movies and cookies and all the late nights I will let them have.    They love to come on early morning mommy dates for fa...

Twins on Your butterfly bench   2023 redo on the bench… it’s still there!!!!   Dearest Makiah, I always write a blog for you, my sweet girl, on your Heaven day.    I’m behind a bit this year… we are out of town,    and I’ve not been alone for over 72 hours.    We spent the day at Dollywood today for the first time, and I was so surprised to see butterflies everywhere!    It’s like little reminders of you were all over… even in the pumpkins! Last week I was in the car alone and the song Throne Room by Charity Gayle came on.    There was such a strong presence of God and as I sang I had a picture in my minds eye of my dear friend, Carmen, and she was holding you.    You were both dressed in white and worshiping together, and I sensed such joy.   I read several posts just now in my memories that she had made about you on your heaven day.    In the last post she said “soon, sweet Makiah, very soon.”...

It was just a few weeks ago. Tears falling down.   She doesn’t think she can do this. Walk down that aisle. To lay her baby to rest. And I remember. Her hands trembling. She can’t get her earrings in. Family steps in to help. It can’t be real. And I remember.  She can’t get to the front. It may as well be miles. Heavy feet pushing forward against all that is right. They have to hold her arms. And I remember. Songs echo across empty dreams. The words attempt to hug her heart. They try to breathe out hope and covering. But she can’t stop shaking. And I remember. The day no mother ever wants to open her eyes to. Because your child’s eyes won’t. Just keep taking the next breath I say to her. In and out right now. And I remember. I also remember the first inkling of hope. The first time I heard God again. The first time I prayed again. The first time I stepped in church again. The first time I opened my bible again. I remember the two lines on the pregnancy test. The biggest s...

  Yet Hope returns when I remember this one thing- the Lord’s unfailing love and mercy still continue, fresh as the morning as sure as the sunrise. Lamentations 3:21-23 (GNT) There aren’t very many things in our  ever changing world that seem to hold fast and remain the same day after day. Two things that have remained untouched by time my entire life are the sunrise and my grandmother’s house. My Mimi    lived in the same house in a tiny town in central Alabama since 1940ish. When she moved there she was in her early 20’s with one tiny tot or maybe two. It was a two bedroom house that they added onto over the years. But in my lifetime I could always count on the old swingset in the backyard to be there. The tree she planted as a young adult had grown into a massive oak that seemed unchanging and committed to outliving us all.    The pale blue walls and carpet of her living room were always inviting in a calming sort of way. Two years ago my grandmother fin...