We began a new tradition last year that continues now. Our life, so altered by our Jimmy’s loss and all the losses that followed, forced us to find a new way to e̶m̶b̶r̶a̶c̶e̶ 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 holidays without him.
Holidays, more than anything else, reveal just how deep the losses go, and this year has been exponentially harder than last. But, as is God’s way, He has met us, once again, in our grief.
Austin, the fur babies, and I arrived yesterday, blessed to be joined by family and friends who have loved us faithfully and well.
Last night was one I will keep in my heart forever. It was an unexpected but delicious gift graced with solace and redemption.
The night was bitterly cold and clear, with a magnificent, unobstructed view of the night sky.
Austin and I bundled up and sat outside, excited to observe the stars in all their glory. They did not disappoint. I’ve never seen them more brilliant or plentiful. They were truly magnificent. 𝐀𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. But, then, we began to notice shooting stars—one and then another and another. What a marvelous surprise!
Each so happy for the other—Austin so glad I saw them, and, I, so happy he did. We exclaimed and delighted in each new one we saw, finally lying down on our backs, zipped into sleeping bags, faces to the sky, just waiting for another spectacular display.
Listening to music extolling the beauty of the planets, and knowing how happy Jimmy would be for us in that very moment, tears spilled, a mixture of grief and gratitude.
I whispered, there in the dark, what seemed unmistakable in that moment. “The heavens declare the glory of God.”
It was a pinch yourself moment. It was one of those moments you make sure to capture in your heart for safe keeping—to tuck away, so you never forget.
So much grief, so much heartache, so much loss, but, still, joy broke through. That has been our story. Sorrow, for moments and seasons, transfigured by the inescapable realization that we are seen, held, claimed, and cared for.
Despair is transcended in moments we least expect by evidence of God’s abiding. In our sorrow and in our joy, His fingerprints are everywhere.
So, we continue to choose again what we chose before: To walk worthy. To grieve well. To welcome delight. To move forward without ever moving on.
How very blessed we were. How very blessed we are.
“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”
~ Sarah Williams