Thursday, March 1, 2018


This sixth anniversary of the loss of Chris crept up on me. I had only one fleeting thought of its approach earlier this week. How different from previous years! I wonder what's changed? How can the pain that nearly shattered me before have faded into barely an ache?
I know that healing comes with time. I know that my God has bound up my fractured heart. And I know that I have good and sweet man in my life. I have been given new life and new love. My neighbor and dear friend said to me today, “The soul is deeply spiritual, and it is either slowly strengthened after loss or it is gradually consumed by longing for the past.” I am being slowly strengthened, and today I feel a bit confused by all the healing that has come. Confused and maybe a little guilty.

For the first time since Chris died, I chose not to reminisce over the days leading up to his death. I just really wasn’t in the mood for it. And for the first time, I chose not to come away and be alone. The grief that compelled me to do those things seems to have lifted this year. I homeschooled the kids and then took a walk by the sea and sat and drank coffee with my husband—my NOW husband. He is my life now. He is my joy, and he holds my heart.

Yet Chris is not forgotten. His memory is tucked away in a quiet place in my heart—taking up just the right amount of space and leaving lots of room for new love and life. I think often of his kindness and gentleness and humor and passions, but those memories bring a smile rather than a looming shadow of sorrow for my great loss. All is as it should be, and I rest in the story that the Divine Writer is composing. I rejoice in the restored joy He has poured over me.