where waves grow sweet

Wow, I’ve missed this writer’s shed… this computer on my lap… the rhythm and quiet that come with the school year. In several month’s time, the routine will once again begin to feel rigid and stifling and the freeform play of summer won’t come soon enough. But for now, this sweet window of time, with Chase back in school as a first grader (and first year with a full day), couldn’t be more welcome. It is so good to be with you again!

There is so much to catch up on; so many blog posts floating around in my head – seeds of posts, really, that I haven’t had a chance to plant on the page, but it doesn’t seem right to launch into those quite yet. So I’ll just start with today; this moment. As the sun shines on the pear tree and the bright yellow slide beyond my door; a cool breeze brushes my skin when the fan turns my way. Fresh tears wet my cheeks as I listen to Kristene DiMarco sing these words:

Far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see
And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea

And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And it is well with me

It has now been over a year since we lost Cole. I miss him. I miss knowing that even though he probably won’t call, he could. I miss the texts he would send when I least expected to hear from him. I miss those rare occasions when we would catch up and I would hang up feeling so fat and happy that my smile remained for days. Even though I knew it wouldn’t be soon, I miss knowing I would see him again… here.

Me and my boy

I have been tempted a couple times recently to say to strangers I won’t likely see again, “Yep, we have older kids too – a 23 year old in the Navy and a 19 year old in college.” I still want him to be part of my story. Of course he is and always will be. But I want to include him in casual conversations like I used to, inviting others to know and appreciate him like I do, without having to burden them with the awful fact that he died. This brilliant, funny boy, my treasured friend… yes, he died, but he is so much a part of me and I love talking about him. 

I am considering getting a small tattoo for his birthday in October. Maybe his initials alongside an anchor. Or maybe “It is well,” a phrase my sister suggested which has deep meaning and a personal reference that makes me smile. I know it won’t change anything, but there is something comforting about having an outward remembrance to echo an inward one. Mostly, though, I know he would be tickled pink to have finally convinced me to get a much-resisted tattoo.

Who knows if I’ll go through with that or not, but what I can say is that this mountain of hurt and longing and the disappointment of loss is real. But every time I get my eyes on Jesus, I know that He is worthy of every ounce of my trust. And that every mountain, including this one, is subject to His authority. So… By His power, I will cast it into the sea and watch it plunge into the depths without a trace. Or, by His grace, I will throw on a backpack and hike this thing until I can access life-changing heights and views that would have otherwise remained out of my reach. Either way, because of Jesus alone, it is well with my soul.

Views from a recent hike in Yosemite