One Year Later.

A deep imprint marks where a house once stood. A home. One that held the memories of over 30 thanksgivings and christmases. 

Boys that grew to be men. It is strange isn’t it, that the echo of the laughter of grandchildren doesn’t ring through the open space the way it did off those well loved walls. 

In many ways, healing is like that. There is a space where before something filled it, and now… it is still there, but altered so that it is completely different. 

I tend toward melancholy, so I realize many of my allusions to the past year are not the most joyful or victorious on the surface. But they are. Oh they are. Every day we get out of bed and move our feet is victorious. Every hour we don’t give in to the overwhelming hopelessness that tries so hard to envelope us is victory. Every day that we CHOOSE to see the joy and  purpose in our lives instead of the barren space of loss that has hollowed out our souls and hearts is an opportunity for victory and for JOY to win over DEATH. 

More than a home was lost that day. That was the beginning of what feels like the unraveling of our family. Choices were made. Relationships were altered. Words were hurled and landed in as damaging a pattern as the fire that day. But, much like that burn scar that once was a home, there is healing. Our family has been altered. But it is still there, trying to come back together. It will never be the same. And truthfully, I wouldn’t want it to be that way. I’m praying for it to be BETTER. Stronger. Deeper. Lovely. 

One year. 

The pieces are still coming together. There is no assurance as to what is next. But we wake up. We move our feet. We smile. We cry. We remember. We forget. 

Another year will pass, Lord willing. Or not. If it does, it too will hold heartache and joy, laughter and tears. And in time, the sharp sting of loss will dull. But that space will still be there. Different. But remaining. 

And that is where we find ourselves. REMAINING. 

“remain in Me, and I will remain in you” - Jesus.