“If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent.
And it never faded, and it never got stale.
And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.” ~Daphne du Maurier
Days meld into evenings.
Snowy mornings fall into frigid nights.
Life moves,
flows,
pushes forward.
I find myself moving with it ~
sometimes reluctantly.
Dragging my feet; reaching back.
Arms outstretched.
Wanting to stay in the moment
and not step into the next one.
I feel like with each passing day
more life is left behind.
I feel anxious and nervous about the future.
I don't want to forget.
I am so afraid of forgetting.
Their voices. Their touch. Their smiles. Their laughter. Their tears...
Bloglandia hasn't seen much of Heaven's Walk these past months.
My heart still struggles with emptiness.
My feeble attempt at putting words to paper fail miserably.
The void is tangible, presses down hard.
Depletes me.
I know deep inside that I continue to be blessed abundantly ~
with my loving husband, my Maizie Grace, family and friends.
Living in this old farmhouse surrounded by woods and water,
rooms warmed by a big furnace,
healthy food lining the pantry shelves,
beds piled with down comforters,
patchouli scented air...
all huge blessings that make me bow my head in gratitude.
God makes his presence known with peace and comfort.
I close my eyes and breathe him in deeply.
Praying.
But a part of me is missing.
Torn away.
Exposed.
Lost.
Floundering.
Seemingly treading water;
pushing myself back up to the surface to gasp for breath.
Between chores...stolen gazes out the window....
purposefully remembering.
Knowing the pain will hit sharply
like a punch to the gut.
The moments come unexpectedly,
blindsiding me;
making my soul curl up in a fetal position.
I reach back in time and allow myself to sink into the memories.
Reliving the shock, painful decisions, and sadness.
Beating myself down with the "whys" and "what-ifs".
Not a place where I want to be, and I try to push away from it,
but it's a place I keep falling in to time and time again.
I touch my dad's lilac painting setting before me in my studio.
I pull his coat on over my shoulders to go shovel snow in our driveway.
I run my fingers across my mother's handwriting on a birthday card from years past,
and clasp her diamond necklace around my neck.
So much has happened over the past eight months.
Eight months? How could it be eight months?
To a broken heart,
it seems like yesterday.
The pain is still that big and encompassing.
It swallows me whole.
How long does a heart grieve? How long does the soul ache?
I want to go back in time...
I don't want to forget
but
I don't want the pain of remembering.
Yet still...
I want to remember.
Clinging.
Surrendering.
Responding to the tugs of divinity within.
Healing through tears and sleepless nights.
The [Holy Spirit] knows the beat of your heart when you have forgotten how to be.
The [Holy Spirit] knows the lyrics of why you are loved - when you can’t remember quite how to live….
The [Holy Spirit] will sing your song - God’s song for you - when you have long forgotten the words to His Word – to yourself. ~Ann Voskamp
The world around me seems loud, crude, and invasive.
I want to shut it out and escape.
It doesn't understand.
I feel God hiding me in the shadow of his hand.
Protecting.
Comforting.
Healing.
“God speaks in the language you know best - not through your ears, but through your circumstances.” ~Oswald Chambers
"May our loves never leave us, at least not for long.
May our passions not be buried so deep by our pain and brokenness that they become impossible to recover.
May we know God and in turn, know ourselves." ~ author unknown
May our passions not be buried so deep by our pain and brokenness that they become impossible to recover.
May we know God and in turn, know ourselves." ~ author unknown
~ Eucharisteo ~
