three years

They said it would get easier with the passing of time, and they were right. Sort of. I don't cry every day anymore. I don't often reach for my phone out of instinct when one of the kids has said or done something funny. The sharpness of remembering, again, that it's all true and it really did happen and she is actually not here, she's really, truly in heaven, has faded and been replaced by a dull knowing. Yes, it's different now after three years, but I wouldn't call it easier. 

Three years and I still can't think too long on that morning. My mind has created a little safety net that it won't let me breach. It knows that the flood of emotions would be too strong and life has continued and there really isn't often space or time for emotions that are too strong. That's probably unhealthy, but maybe healthier than forcing myself to feel the flood before I'm ready. My grief has been slow and steady; almost gentle. The hardest days have been the ones that I didn't know to brace myself for. January 1, 2013; a new year that wouldn't know her. A new season of Downton Abbey. The fall line being rolled out in Target. The kids baseball games where, week after week,  the stands were filled with grandmothers who brought post-game treats and loved nothing more than cheering for their favorite little people. A successful decorating attempt or craft project. Things like those are what would leave me with unexpected tears rolling down my face. Oh, and my birthday. I guess I should have suspected that one but it knocked me over. She said I would miss her worrying, but I actually don't. It's a relief to not feel burdened by the weight of keeping things ok. I do understand her and her worrying better now though, and I'm so very glad for her that she no longer carries that weight either. 

So much has changed in three years; a few things for the better, most that force me to remind myself that they have to be for the better because my God has promised me that it's true. And I think that might be the greatest gift of these three years. Mom's death began a tidal wave of hard things into our lives: drug addiction faced head-on, a terrible car accident, and an alzheimer's diagnosis, just to name a few. These have been the heaviest, hardest years our family has ever faced. And yet, God has proven himself faithful. He has drawn us near. I have seen and felt His love more surely in these times than ever before. 

Andrew Peterson's newest album, The Burning Edge of Dawn, was released just before the anniversary of mom's death. On the morning of her death I posted, "My precious mom is with Jesus today. That thought breaks my heart and fills it with incredible joy all at the same time." The thought of her being with Jesus really did astound me. And I was so very glad for her. But it was the word picture that was painted for me in "The Dark Before the Dawn" that, for the smallest moment, replaced my own sadness with true awe over what that morning, and every morning since, must have really been like for my sweet mom. I miss her. More today than I did three years ago. But my joy for her is slowly becoming real, and not just what I know I'm supposed to feel. 

I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And I could see the fields of glory
I could hear the sower's song
I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And all that rain had washed me clean
All the sorrow was gone
I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And I could finally believe
The king had loved me all along
I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
I saw the sower in the silver mist
And He was calling me home
The Dark Before the Dawn, Andrew Peterson
 


"Some old-fashioned things like fresh air and sunshine are heard to beat."  ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder


Unless you have a virus. And then you really just want to go to bed. 

One thing about moving into the big kid stage (or, as Ben likes to say, having big kids who are "going through adolescence") is that all these new interests are brought into our family and begin to shape our days and activities. This fall has found us chasing presidential candidates as they tour through Greenville. Our first meeting was at a local diner where Jeb Bush came through unannounced to the public before a speaking engagement at Furman. A friend of Travis's from co-op gave him the heads up after receiving an invitation from reporter friend. So, in an effort to encourage the budding Alex P. Keatons in our family, I left the little boys with the neighbors (no need to risk ending up on CNN for some sort of wild shenanigan) and staged a lunch out with my big kids. We did order and we did eat (kind of), but we weren't there for the food. Mr. Bush arrived about 20 minutes after we did and was every bit as personable and relatable as you'd hope. 

Travis spent a few minutes considering what burning question he should ask when our turn came to shake his hand, and finally made his choice. 

He asked Gov. Bush what super hero he would choose to be if he could pick any at all. At this, Gov. Bush laughed, said he'd have to think about it for a minute, and then asked if Travis had any suggestions. He did, of course, and replied that Captain America seemed rather presidential. Gov. Bush heartily agreed, and then quipped that he'd also be prepared with a shield to fend off any lightning bolts that Trump might send his way. 

A bit later, upon seeing Sam follow him around like the paparazzi with his camera, he told his own campaign photographer to switch cameras with Sam. His arm muscles got a workout lugging that dream machine around for the next thirty minutes! In the end, Gov. Bush told Sam to pack his bags and hit the trail with him. Next stop: Miami! 

A few weekends later we had the privilege of shaking hands with Dr. Ben Carson, and the boys have tickets at the ready for an event that Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio are attending in a few weeks. 

These boys are handy to have around and I know more about the candidates a full year before the election than I ever have upon entering the voting booth. Debate nights are an event that requires good food and drink (and ends up making small children cry because they can't stay up for the entire three hours). Jimmy and I are more than happy to support this interest, though we do draw the line at rearranging our schedules for two candidates; Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. They can both sail right on through Greenville and we never even need to know about it. Though with these boys tracking everyones moves, I'm sure we will.