Light Sometimes

I am taking tentative steps back into this space, into the world of words shared and images captured and the marriage of the two. What revelation I receive seems to come in that weaving, when the seen and the spoken twist together and I recognize the truth of where I’m sitting in the patterns that emerge.

It has always been so. A Word spoken called into pulsing being the visible world, and then we were tasked with what to call what was made. And then when we fall silent the creation itself calls out praise to the original Maker and Speaker. And for me, eventually I rejoin this conversation again.

I’ve been silent here for weeks. My father-in-law passed away in the last days of March, leaving a hole in our family and in the order of our lives. Because my own father died when I was seventeen, John’s dad has been for me as well as for John an anchor in this world. He was brave and truthful and honorable in his living and his dying. We knew he loved us, and his passing brought an end to pain and struggle for him. We received the mercy in it, even as we felt the loss for ourselves.

And for a time, even today as I sit here, the world has seemed somehow too large without him. We have shepherded our boys through their first great loss, knowing that the first death of a loved one makes all kind of unimaginable things possible to them. We have drawn close, held hands, listened, and wept. We have remembered and been grateful for moments to forget now and then. Undeniably, a showy Upstate Spring has been somewhat dimmed this year.

And yet, we’re starting to find, there’s light sometimes. Around the edges of life, there begin to be memories that don’t hurt, smiles that come more easily. Good food begins to taste good, and good work produces a good tired at the end of the day. I’m getting out the camera a little more, and John is laughing a little more, and the boys are very focused on the end of school and summer and basketball and ice cream.

Outside Creation is singing, and some days we able to join the song again.


5 thoughts on “Light Sometimes

  1. Beth

    Beautiful words, Missy. I am learning that the grieving process can take a very long time but that God gives merciful gifts of beauty in painful times and brings us, not to forget, but to embrace both the aching and the rejoicing. Prayers for you, dearheart.

  2. Kristin

    Missy, I have been thinking about you and, through your beautiful words, can appreciate how difficult these first steps have been as you continue this earthly journey without the physical presence of a man so dear to your family’s hearts.

  3. tonia

    The words and images are gifts, allowing the heart to understand and discover. I’m so glad to see you back here, working your way through to spring again. Grieving takes a long, long time and you are doing well.

    Your writing is exquisite as always, Missy.

  4. Trish

    You are SUCH an incredible writer!!! This post was just so touching. I can certainly relate to all of it. And yes, I, too, feel like I am beginning to join in the song again.

    It was so great meeting you this week-end! I look forward to keeping in touch!



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