I Don’t Deserve ……

…… any of the kind, supportive words that I’ve been given. I’m sure my children would be the first to testify to this.

I didn’t do anything except finally admit publicly what I’ve known, but could not reveal, for several years.
My children have been much braver than I. I don’t think they worried for one second about what people would think about them being their true selves.
I’m sorry to admit that I did worry about that.

Again, I didn’t really care what people would think about my children … or me. I cared about the friendships that I knew would end once people voiced their thoughts to me.
I’m not sure that even makes sense.

My views, beliefs, and thoughts have changed a lot since Jim died. I’ve come to learn that things are not always black and white.
But many of the people I’ve loved and respected for years don’t see the varied hues.
I’m ok with that. I don’t think we all have to totally agree on everything. I can respect someone who thinks/believes differently than me.

What I can’t deal with is someone who would vocalize their judgement of my children to me. Especially for something they did not choose.

So I remained quiet. In order to keep friendships. In order to keep the peace.

So much for peace.

I am a Christ-follower.
I am a mother.
I am rarely, if ever, totally right.

But as a Christ-following mother …… I can tell you this …… who you love is NOT a choice. Not for most people anyway.
Not for my children.
Not for me.

As a Christ-following mother …… I can tell you that I know my child has always been gay. Just as I have always been heterosexual.

As a Christ-following mother …… I can tell you that I do NOT believe that my child is sinning by being gay …… by being what he/she was born to be.
What kind of god would label love a sin? A love you have no control over?

I know that many would disagree with me. I wonder how many of those people have children who are gay?

And …… as a Christ-follower …… I can tell you this: Christ was/is/always will be about love. Love.
Love is love is love is love.
Love.

I think that’s about all I have to say on this subject. Of course, I can always change my mind, but I don’t want to turn this blog into a religious/political forum on gay rights.

It’s just about my life.
My life without Jim.
My life in spite of being without Jim.

My children are a part of that life.
Which probably doesn’t thrill them at all.

Love is love is love is love is love.

Love is Love is Love is Love ……

I have been blown away….. by the support, encouragement, and love that I’ve received since my last post.

Really.  I haven’t been too sure as to how to respond, so I’ve waited.  But I don’t want to wait too long because I want you to know how much you’ve meant to me.

The depression thing …… well, that’s only a part of what’s been going on and it’s not something that I’m concerned about.  Trust me, if it were, I’d be back on the meds in a heart beat.  Because I have.  Several times.
This time it feels different.
I know that part of the reason I don’t want to be on them is because I never needed them before Jim died.
Damn it to hell.
His death changed so much of me.
Without my permission.
Without my knowledge.
But there you go.

I’ve been mostly on anti-depressants for 8 years.  Enough is enough.  Or so I hope.

My last post wasn’t so much about depression, as it was the trifecta that was occurring in my/our world.

First, I’ve been missing Jim.  I think that usually happens this time of year.  I just want to hear his voice.  I want to know that he’s here, that he sees us and that he cares.
And that he approves.  I guess that would be the biggest thing.
But, as the age old song goes, “You can’t always get what you want.”

And then that damn Orlando thing happened …… and I decided that I’d had enough.
I’m done with hiding my children from my “friends”.
I’m done with pretending that one’s just too busy to be dating and settling down.

You see, I grew up and have remained in a conservative Christian background.  I have loved the people I’ve worshipped with and yes, worked with. Immensely.

But I knew that if I were to even whisper that I thought one of my children were gay, relationships would change.  Some would even end.
And I wasn’t ready for that.

I loved certain people so much that I couldn’t tell them that I had a gay child/children because I didn’t want to hear the condemnation that I was sure would come spewing forth.  That would mean the end of a friendship.  And I wasn’t ready for that.

But then came Orlando.
And now I don’t give a damn what people think, or believe, or spew forth, about my children.

I, and I alone, along with Christ, know my children.  I know their hearts, and I know their souls.  I’ve watched them grow up from toddlers in the church to teens.  I’ve seen some of them leave the church because of the hypocrisy they encountered there.  Heck, I saw my own parents leave the church for the same reason.

Yes, I knew early on that one of our children was gay.  Or was most likely gay.
No, I never said a word to Jim.  I can’t know for sure what he would’ve said, but I believe that he would’ve had a more difficult time accepting it than I did.

I do believe he would’ve come around, though.  And I don’t believe for one moment that he would’ve dis-owned or kicked our child out of our home because of this.

I know that this will come as a shock to certain family members, as well as friends.  And for that, I’m sorry.
Again, I didn’t feel it was my story to tell.
I still don’t.

I think it’s obscene that we expect our gay children to “come out”, while our heterosexual children just grow up and marry.

So there you go.  I have two gay children.
Whom I love very much.
And whom I hope find love and happiness and family life, in the same way I hope that for their siblings.
I know that Christ loves all 6 of my children.
No if’s and’s or but’s.

I wish that Jim were here with me to have my back now.
But he’s not.
It’s just me.
And that’s ok.
Because it has to be.

To those of you who will no longer be in my life because of your beliefs, it was nice knowing you and I wish you the best.

To those of you who don’t give a rat’s ass about who my children love, thank you.
So very much.
Because I need you.

I love my children.
All 6 of them.
I’m proud of my children.
All 6 of them.
And nothing, no … nothing, can change that.
I may not always agree with their choices or decisions, but I will always love and accept them.
As would Jim.

Depression ……

the whole Crew…… And so much more.

Depression……. never seems to visit at a convenient time.  Or maybe that’s just me.

The past few days have been hard for me, and yet I’m unable to say why.  We made it past May, our anniversary, 3 of our children’s birthdays, etc.  It’s now the middle of June.  My birthday is around the corner, but that doesn’t seem to be looming large.
Or does it?

Maybe I’m not giving it enough credit.
I’ll be 56.
Still single.
Still expecting to be single for the rest of my life.
But that can be good ….. and yet not so good.

I weaned myself off of my antidepressants early this year (Yes, I can hear your tsk, tsks, head shakes, and finger wagging from here).  But it was very slow and hey ….. if I was able to make it through my daughter’s wedding (where I looked worse than I have (weight-wise) in YEARS) and survive, then I think I did pretty damn well.

I made it through moving homes (and not selling one …. YET), through adopting Little Man, unpacking an entire house by myself, and then moving back to NY.

I’ve been doing really well, if i do say so myself.

And then.

Then these last few days have brought me no sleep, and an onslaught of tears.
I am in the throes of missing Jim.
Missing him hard.
Missing him constantly.
Missing his voice.
Missing his hand.
Just ……. the missing of him.

No explanation.
No answers.
No whys.

It just is what it is.

And then add to this missing of him …… the unfathomable horror that occurred in Orlando this weekend.
Orlando — a place that has meant nothing but fun for my children, for me and for Jim.
Many times.

And now it means death.
And hate.
And horror.

It also means that it’s time for me to stop hiding behind my children.
I have 6 wonderful, beautiful children.
Two of them are gay.
One, I had no doubt about as this child grew.
The other, I really never saw it coming.

I haven’t been public about this before because I’ve believed it’s not my story to tell.  So I still won’t tell it.
But I will say that I love these two children just as much, or maybe a bit harder, than the other 4.
They were brought up the exact same way their siblings were.  They received the same amount of unconditional love, the same expectations, the same discipline.
I believe that God loves them the very same way that He loved them when they were barely inside of me. I don’t believe that Christ’s love changes with the wind. Or depends on who you love.

I don’t believe the way they love/who they love is a sin.  I don’t believe in a God who would create love and then penalize certain children for experiencing it.

I may lose many friends over this.

But that’s ok, because they most likely weren’t my friends anyway.

More tears come now as I wonder if my children will feel forever unsafe ……. solely because of who they love.  Not who they CHOOSE to love, but who they fall in love with.  Just as I did.
Just as Jim did.

The tears flow.

And now I will lose more friends.
Meh.

I have no problem with Americans owning guns.
I agree it’s a right in this country.
But I can no longer condone the ownership/usage of assault rifles.  Guns that rattle off bullets by the second.  Guns that are used because the user wants to feel “tough’, “masculine” ,  “macho”,  “in control”.
Or because he wants to kill as many people as possible in a very short amount of time.

I am done. I can’t stand by any longer, no matter what area of the country I’m from, no matter who I’m related to, and say nothing.
I am sickened by the lack of action on getting these types of guns out of the hands of our children and out of our country.

Delete me if you must.  Because isn’t that what this country’s come to?  If we don’t agree with someone, we delete them.  We used to talk to each other, to share our differences.
Now we delete.
From Facebook.

From Twitter.

From Instagram.

From Life.

A Tale of Two ……

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(Tonight’s dinner.  And yes, I made it.  And it was as delicious as it looks.)

…… Worlds.

I know that many friends live vicariously through me and my life in New York.
And I get that.
And am ok with it.

I think that no one lives vicariously through my being widowed.
And I get that.
And am ok with it.

I know that I have a wonderful life.
I know that I have no reason to complain.
And so I try not to.
Much.

But ……
I feel torn between two worlds.

One world is my life in NY, going to shows, seeing sights, trying to make a life for myself here and in Texas.
Loving time spent with my children and my grandchild.

In this world I am self sufficient, independent, happy to be able to do what I want, when I want.  I love being able to travel between the two states, and elsewhere.  I am 100% grateful that I’m able to live this life this way and I don’t take it for granted.  I know that I was blessed to have the marriage that I had, with the perfect husband/best friend for me.  And I know that I may never find that kind of love again, but that’s ok …… because at least I had it.

Then there’s the other world.  The one in which I still do all of these things, still know all of these things and am still grateful for all of them.
But …… I feel lonely.
I miss having someone to be with.
Someone to have fun with.
Someone to talk to, argue with, laugh with, share things with.
Someone to hold hands with.
Someone to love.

And while I was blessed to have it, and know that I may have to be content with having had it once …… I really want to have it again.

Living alone can be very lonely.
Especially at the end of the day.

Why am I writing about this?
To let you know …… to make you aware, in case you’re not …… that while you may think that someone has a great life, a fun life, a busy life …… and that maybe every once in a while you might feel a twinge of envy for the life they lead …… we all have …… something.
No one has a perfect life.

No one.

And a person can be busy, active, traveling, show-seeing, blessed …… and still feel very lonely.

Very blessed.  And very lonely.
Torn between two worlds.

It’s Been a Week ……

…… and then some.

When last we met, Little Man had officially become a member of our family.                               It seems like he’s always been ours.

The day after that I flew to Chicago for my niece’s high school graduation.  I always have a great time hanging out with my sister and her family.  This was no exception.  I’m very proud of my beautiful niece.

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I wish I could’ve stayed longer but after 2 days I flew back to Waco and have spent the last 7+ days unpacking and getting things put away in the house.  I managed to get every single box unpacked this past Friday and finally had the house looking like a normal box-less house.

I also worked my buns off putting pieces of furniture together.

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And then the moving company delivered the rest of my stuff yesterday (Saturday) morning.  And while I’m not really back at square one, I still have more boxes to deal with.  I just have to decide whether or not I want to deal with them before Tuesday.
When I head back to New York.
Whoop!!!!

Little Man spent the night with me this past Friday.  We had a great time, if you don’t count the allergy cough that has been getting the best of him lately.                                        He played in the pool that I brought home this past week.  So. Much. Fun!!                      Although there were time when he didn’t know whether to play in it or drink from it.

Daughter #3 and her hubby and Son #1 came in for the weekend.  There were birthdays to celebrate this weekend.  D2 and D3’s birthday was this past Tuesday.  Son #1’s was yesterday (Friday).  I think they’re starting to discover that adult birthdays aren’t all that exciting/fun.
So we added another party yesterday.  This one was to celebrate Little Man’s adoption.  A lot of friends came and I think that everyone had a great time.    It sure was a wonderful reason to celebrate …… even if it was on what should’ve been our 33rd wedding anniversary.
And while I felt some sadness that this day no longer means what it used to, it was great to celebrate the addition of Little Man into our family on this date.  I was happy to share it with him.

So yeah …. it’s been quite a week …… and more.                                                                                  I may or may not get everything unpacked and put away before I head to New York.          And if I don’t …… who cares?

Happy Memorial Day, Peeps.

 

You May Get Awfully Tired ……

…… of seeing this face.
Though I highly doubt it.
Because …… this face!

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He’s all ours now.
Well, technically, he’s all Daughter #2’s.  But she has to share.  🙂

The hearing was …… well, it was certainly surprising.

Before it really started, the judge was asking D2’s attorney some questions.  She didn’t seem all that happy with the answers and seemed to indicate that she would not be on board with Little Man’s adoption today.
Most of us inwardly groaned and settled in, bracing ourselves to hear that this would not be finished today, but at some point in the near future.

The attorney questioned the case worker, and then D2.  And she described her life over these past 20 months …… and her love (and ours) for Little Man.  She also said what she feared would happen if he were to not stay with her.

I don’t think there were many dry eyes in the room.

She did a great, and very calm job.

After almost two hours both attorneys were basically done (D2’s and Little Man’s). The judge then questioned them.
Again, we thought we’d be returning to this court room at some future date to continue this journey.

And then, almost out of the blue, she looked up and said, “I’m signing the orders for termination and for adoption.  And for the name change.”

Daughter #3 and I were sitting together and we both gasped in surprise.  And then burst into tears.  I really was stunned.
The judge looked over at us and smiled.  I smiled at her through my tears and mouthed, “Thank you.”
She asked if there were enough tissue boxes in the room.
Fortunately, there were.

So it is done.
Little Man is 100% part of our family.
Forever.
Thank You, God.

He not only carries our last name, but his middle name is James.
After his grandfather, who would’ve burst into tears himself upon hearing that.

We had a celebratory dinner tonight.  Just him, Daughter #2, Daughter #3, and their good friend/attorney.  Oh, and me.  We hope to have a party next weekend to celebrate in a big way.
On our way out of the restaurant, who should we bump into but Chip and Joanna (if you don’t know who they are, you don’t watch “Fixer Upper”, and …… I’m sorry), who had already heard the news through the Waco grapevine.

You have to love small towns.  🙂

I’m headed to Chicago tomorrow for my niece’s high school graduation.  I know I’ll have a great time.  I’m just praying that I’ll be able to get back home without having to sleep on a cot in O’Hare.
Please, God.

Before I go, I’m going to leave you with some pictures.
And a video.

Be careful.  The cuteness overload may be too much for some people.
But you might as well get used to it.
Because ……
This.
Face!!

Kinda …… Somewhat ……

…… oh, not even.
Unpacked, that is.

Some rooms look a lot closer than others.
And then there’s the entire second floor.
I try not to go up there.
Yet.

I will give you a small sneak peek at the chaos that is my life right now.
Well, not so much chaos as …… the cave I’ve only left twice since I got here last Friday morning.

I went to the grocery store on Sunday …… whoop!
Trust me, that’s a sincere “whoop”.
Which means that I badly needed to get out of the house.

Then tonight I went out to dinner with my parents.
It seems strange to live in the same town with them.
Strange, but nice.
After all, it’s been 25 years since that happened.
Twenty five. Wow.
I’m glad I didn’t know then how the next 25 years would play out.
#knowingthefutureisoverrated

So anyway, back to the peek.
Here you go:

I know this seems obvious, but bear with me.  This was a box of my shoes.
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And so was this.
Like I really needed the flippant commentary from the packer.
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This is a picture of part of the front of my house.  My phone snapped this shot when I dropped it.
It’s not a great idea to drag boxes out of the house while trying to hold on to your phone.  Even if you really are trying to get some cool pics for your lovely blog readers (they’ll be posted later).
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This was the view of my backyard this morning when I woke up.  Fortunately, I had nothing on my calendar except unpacking.
All day long.
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I had/have boxes upon boxes of books.
I’ve come to the opinion that books are an awful lot like rabbits.
I swear I didn’t have that many two years ago.

After unpacking all of them and then putting them around the living room in various categories/stacks/piles/heaps, I decided to part with two boxes of them.  I mean really …… how many more times am I going to read Pelican Brief?  Or Life of Pi?
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As you can see, the flippant packer had an opinion about my books, too.
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Though it kind of looks like these might be very fragile “crasses”, they are not.
It’s my collection of crosses.
Which may one day leave these boxes …… if I can decide where to hang them.   Lord have mercy.
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I finally got all of my bedding washed and put on my bed.
Which made one of us very, very happy.                                        And yes, that’s a stuffed teddy bear next to her.                               I think it’s supposed to be a cat toy, but that’s what happens when you’re only 4 pounds.
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These boxes need to be moved upstairs.                                         I’m just waiting for the box fairy to show up and do that.                       What?  A girl can dream.
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This is the family room, which is close to being done.                           Very, very close.
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This is my “breakfast area”.  Most people put a table and chairs here.  That would mean that most people probably have a table and chairs to put there.  I do not.  So now it’s a sitting area, which I really love.
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This is the kitchen, obviously.  It’s basically done, though I won’t consider it fully finished until that island is an empty canvas.                           Yes, it might be a while.
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Speaking of a blank canvas, this is the dining room.  Which is basically done, except for that wall, which needs some serious help.  If you look closely you can see that there’s a picture leaning against it.  Hopefully it will one day be on that wall, rather than leaning against it.                                   We shall see.
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Speaking of serious help …… this room is in dire straights.                 Not the band, the situation.  It’s the living room, but as you can see …… it’s more like the “piano and only the piano room”.  It’s quite small, so there’s not much that can be added, but I’m on a quest.                         A quest to make it like like more than just a room that contains a piano.     It’s going to be a very, very long quest …… so don’t hold your breath.       Of course, just getting all of those boxes upstairs will do wonders.
Not for the upstairs, though.
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That’s it.
I told it would be small.

I’d give you more but I’m tired.                                                 Physically, yes …… but mostly I’m tired of boxes.                           I’m leaving for NY on the 31st.
Thank.
The.
Lord.

I need to get some rest.                                                         And leave the boxes behind.
They’ll definitely be here when I get back.
Whenever that is.

By the way, Thursday at 1:30 Central Time, it would be great if you all could send up prayers.
Daughter #2 and I (and I think Daughter #3) will be going to court concerning her adoption of Little Man.   Please pray that the morning cases stay on time so that her case isn’t postponed.  Please.
And then of course …… please pray for the obvious.
The best for Little Man.

Wouldn’t it be great if you could actually see his face the next time I post?
Yeah, me, too.
Thanks, Peeps.                                                                   ❤

In with a Bang ……

…… out with a whimper, as the saying goes.
Only it’s really out with some silent tears rather than a pathetic whimper.
That’s more how I roll.

The house is packed.
And very, very quiet.
To say that I’m going to miss this lovely home is like saying Gracie is a little energetic.
Words don’t do the feeling justice.

The same goes for leaving this community.
There aren’t enough words.
Or smiles.
Or tears.

Last night I went out with a friend and made two new friends.
Two nights before I leave.
Go figure.

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But I had a great time, which I really, really needed.
I needed to laugh and laugh a lot, instead of think of how much I was going to miss my friends here and cry myself into dehydration.

Which is where I found myself on Mother’s Day.
In an emergency room, severely dehydrated (did you notice that great segue?!).
Although I doubt that it was caused by crying.
I’m actually not certain what caused the whole thing …… all I know is that I never EVER want to get that way again.
It was horrible.

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I started feeling badly Thursday night and then proceeded to sleep 46 of the next 48 hours.
Seriously.
No food.
No water.
Nothing.
Just a lot of pain (like the feeling of having been hit by a truck …… I hazard to guess) and utter exhaustion like I’ve never felt before.
Even as a mother of newborn twins.
(That hit by a truck feeling, yes. The utter exhaustion, no.)

I knew by Friday afternoon that I needed an IV but couldn’t do anything about it. (I just knew. Never been hydrated before.)
Thankfully for me, Son #1 decided to surprise me with a visit Saturday morning. Unluckily for him, we both spent all of Mother’s Day morning in a hospital.
Him, freezing to death.
Me, wishing for death.
I kid.
He wasn’t that cold.

So, one diagnosed UTI (who knew?), one bag of IV fluids, three different prescriptions and one huge co-pay later we were out the door.
I’m still not back to 100% but I’m a heck of lot better than I was.
The take away?
Living alone can be hella scary, especially when you’re ill.
It is incredibly frightening to know how fast you can go downhill when no one’s with you.

My second take away? The next time my daughter/mother/anyone at all actually, offers to take me to an urgent care I will say yes, thank you.

The rest of my Mother’s Day?
Nice.
Quite nice.

A Beautiful Harp ……

…… can’t always play beautiful music.

No matter how beautiful this magnificent instrument looks, it’s only as good as its strings.

Monday night, as I sat through the funeral of my stepmother, tears rolling down my face at yet another part of my life that is gone, the image of a beautiful harp filled my mind.
It came out of nowhere, but it was as clear as if the harp were actually sitting in front of me.
As I studied this harp in my mind, one of its strings suddenly broke. It was an almost violent action and sound that stood in contrast to the beauty of the instrument.
Sometimes the breaking of a harp string can be painful.
If you’re too close.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this beautiful, yet broken
instrument …… was a visual image of my life.
Or rather, of my life since I met Jim.

Meeting him and falling in love with him brought the harp into my life.
All of the people and experiences that came after that filled my beautiful harp with amazing sounding strings.
The music from that harp was often loud, full of joy, love, laughter and sometimes … touching sadness.

And then Jim died.
Suddenly.
And just as suddenly, most of the strings on that harp snapped violently, stinging anyone and anything in their path.
After that, the harp just sat …… in its brokenness.

brokenharp

It occurred to me, as I sat in that funeral home Monday night, that each breaking string represented another connection with Jim that was now gone.
So seeing that string break at that moment, wasn’t actually losing my stepmother, but losing another part of my life that contained Jim.

I thought of all of those broken strings, and the lost people or things they represented.
My mother in law.
People who withdrew from my life.
The sale of our home.
The sale of our lake house.
The death of a friend of ours.
The divorce of friends of ours.
Our children …… graduating, growing, graduating again …… marrying.
Moving to New York.
Leaving Kingwood.
Selling his car.

There are so many more strings that have broken.
So many more ties to Jim that have been lost.
The more they break …… the lonelier, and sometimes more broken, I feel.

closeup of harp

But here’s the thing.
The most important thing.
The harp doesn’t have to stay broken.
New strings can be added.
Notice that I didn’t say that strings can be “replaced”.
Because they can’t.
Ever.
And that’s ok.
They need to be remembered and honored and treasured for what each of them added to the beauty of the instrument.

And then new strings can be installed.
All it takes is a little determination.
And the desire to hear beautiful music again.

But most importantly …… it’s asking for help from the God who’s been loving us and waiting for us all along.

I’ve found that he adds the very best strings …… when I get out of His way.

Ironically enough …… the same events that can break a string …… can also put in a new one.
Moving to New York.
Selling “our” home in order to start the next part of my life.
Children graduating. And thriving.
And marrying.

New strings can be added as often as you recognize them.
Son #4.
Little Man.
Moving to Waco.
Gracie.                                                                                                                                                         Making new friends.                                                                                                                 Reconnecting with old ones.
Continuing to make memories.
Continuing to count blessings.

A harp needs to have strings replaced periodically in order to sound its best.
And even though new strings bring beauty …… there will still be pain each time an old one breaks.
Each time I lose another connection to Jim.

It’s this thing called “life” …… and it comes with the territory …… of living.

My harp will continue to play, and will continue to cause pain sometimes. The only way to avoid that is to leave it sitting in a corner, collecting dust.
And missing out on its extraordinary, beautiful music.
That …… I cannot do.

I’ll continue to listen to its music, feel the pain of each broken string, and lovingly add new ones as needed, with God’s help.
Because I can’t bear the thought of never seeing, or hearing, its beauty again.
And remembering Jim each time it plays.

kim webby harp 2