The Love That Breaks a Heart

 

“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

 

 

 

~  Eucharisteo  ~

Linking to the linky parties on the lower right of my sidebar.

 

 

 

 

Swedish Bedroom Blues

After some major closet decluttering,

a hefty donation to the local Goodwill Store,

and a garbage bag full of "Why-on-earth-did-I-keep-this?" stuff,

I focused on the master bedroom next.

I think the last time you saw this room,

it was Christmastide and it had a small pine tree filled with tiny, white lights settled in an old sap bucket,

and there was a big wreath on the bed mantel.

Now, it's dressed for a Swedish springtime.

I wanted to bring some blues in here, too,

like I have been with the rest of the house.

(I decided that the guest room would keep it's faded red grain sacks, though.

It just fits that room with the dark toned Jenny Lind bed.)

The inspiration for this room came from a painting that my Dad did many, many years ago.

Back in the day, he was a fabulous artist and loved dabbling in oil paints.
I now have a collection of them that I treasure.

I wish he had kept up with it because he was so talented.

This is my favorite picture he painted.

It hangs next to our bed.

The sky blues and deep aquas are so beautiful,

and it reminds me of the trip that Hubby and I took to Kennebunkport, Maine

many years ago.

The craggy, rocky shoreline with the crashing waves,

the statuesque lighthouses at every turn,

the beautiful historic architecture of the homes,

the multitude of antique shops,

not to mention the incredibly delicious lobster rolls,

made us both fall madly in love with that state.

(Check out Lili's blog at Fearless Nesting if you want to see some beautiful photos of Maine!)

So, the aqua linen duvet cover and shams were pulled out of the blanket chest at the foot of the bed,

and two grain sacks with Swedish blue stripes on them were added into the mix.
Nothing fancy.
Plain and simple.

We purchased the blanket chest while in Maine.  I'm seriously considering painting it because I'm tired of the green, but it's the original paint....so I'm hesitating...

Grain sacks: Grainsacks, Etsy

 

A long time ago, a friend of mine brought back a beautiful original Rachel Ashwell Shabby Chic linen bag for me from her vacation in California.  

(Thank you, Pat! ♥)

I hung it next to a handmade crocheted pillowslip on the ladder in the corner of the room.

The bluebird-in-a-myrtle-tree is tucked into a 

vintage pitcher.

Floral pillow: Sassycat Creations, Etsy

In my effort to keep things clutter-free, the only thing that was placed on our bed mantel was a small candelabra, a wire heart, and a small ironstone pitcher with a hydrangea blossom.

Candelabra: ReStore, Wire heart: Faded Plains, Etsy

A big, old willow laundry basket on the blanket chest that sits at the foot of the bed 

holds a couple grain sacks amidst the creamy loveliness of some vintage crocheted coverlets I purchased at Doster Emporium last summer.

Doster Emporium is a fabulous antique/treasure shop inside an old, historic grain and lumber mill.

Georgina, the owner, is always finding special things to offer her customers in this unique building.

I'm renting a room there this season to sell Heaven's Walk painted furniture and my repurposed treasures.

(Look for Doster Emporium on Facebook! 
She just posted that she's sprucing the place up for opening day in mid-April!) 

One of the coverlets will soon get draped over our front porch swing for cool summer evenings.

 

"Toby's wings" hang lovingly on the armoire.

As soft shades of blue and gray make their way back into Heaven's Walk,

so does the warmth of the sun ~

along with the promise of springtime.

 [ Blessings ]

PS ~ Pinning Update: 
Call me a Pinterest Addict, but I'm back to pinning again...

HOWEVER

ONLY my own photos or
photos from my friends' blogs which I know were taking by them alone.
I think this is the only safe way to pin...
and still be able to get some sleep at night.

Linking to the parties on the lower right of my sidebar.

Just click on the buttons!

I'd love to have you become a Linky Follower of Heaven's Walk, too! ♥

(Thank you and welcome to my new followers!)