where waves grow sweet

We have this certain hope like a strong, unbreakable anchor holding our souls to God himself. Hebrews 6:19 tpt

Wednesday, October 7th, would have been Cole’s 25th birthday. Last year, our little family wore temporary anchor tattoos as a way to celebrate him since he was in the Navy and loved tattoos, but more significantly because of our hope that is anchored in Jesus… our hope of heaven, of seeing Cole again, of comfort and healing while we are here on this earth. Chase had also instituted the tradition on this special day of creating art, a particular enjoyment of Cole’s. Because of a friend’s suggestion, we invited others to join us this year in these young, humble traditions.

It felt vulnerable to put my heart out there like this; to invite others into our joy-filled memories of Cole – and into our pain. And yet what poured in through that vulnerability was profoundly moving. Texts and posts of anchored arms sprinkled my vision that day, as did heartfelt drawings and paintings and caring notes that wrapped me up in comfort as my emotions began to rise. Many friends from our neighborhood and community stopped by, most of whom had never even met Cole. But still, they willingly entered into this sacred space of joy and pain, alongside so many others, drenching me in an overwhelming love that shook walls of self-protection that were erected long before Cole was even born, causing ancient bricks to crumble and allowing me to show up uncovered, unburdened, embraced and accepted.

Because that’s what love does. It enters into the vulnerable places, breaking down what never belonged in the first place and building up what was always meant to be. So thank you all for entering in with me through reading this blog and all the other ways you have shown unbelievable kindness and love. I can only hope to enter in with others as you have done for me.