Yesterday while Jameson napped, I stepped out into the garden for a few minutes and got rid of some weeds, some old tomato plants, some annuals that never were quite alive, and I thought of Liz. Being out in my own garden, being very clueless and frustrated by dying plants for who-knows-why, I always felt a kinship with her, hard at work in her own yard in Italy, trying to work her mother’s magic. And I always admired the hours she and Christian put into a place they knew they’d only be for a short while.
But not this short.
And so go my thoughts while trying to accomplish the tasks at hand, always turning to her. Shuddering at the sound of aircraft that fly overhead all day long. Startled at strange times by the agony that overwhelms. Wanting to somehow comprehend this, but rejecting all attempts at understanding.
Stinging. Yes, it stings.
But not forever, as Brietta reminds us.
Not forever. We have a Redeemer.
Two things I’m thankful for, from yesterday:
1. A call from Lore, which included encouragement to embrace this season of my life, and not grow weary.
2. A jar of buttons, a few moments of quiet, and a bit of inspiration that equaled a Christmas gift.