Relishing in His Goodness: God

Friday, July 15, 2022

I'll Stop the World...

I took my crew on a movie and dinner date, a couple of days ago. By the way, in the event that you were wondering, the new minions movie is brilliantly hilarious. My progeny and I thoroughly enjoyed it! Two enthusiastic thumbs up!

I couldn't have been with better company. My favorite part about this date night, though, wasn't the relaxing leather movie recliners or the yummy food (although, ya'll, Chic-fil-la's grilled chicken nuggs are pretty slammin). It was laughing carelessly with one another. Talking, for quite a long while, without checking our phones. Simply enjoying the tribe we were put in. What a gift time can be.

Toward the end of the dinner date, we began talking about where we are with our grief and I couldn't help but to be so insanely proud of the four precious humans, whom I gave birth to, as I listened to each of them speak fluently and with insight about such a heavy topic. I can't imagine having ever been put into their shoes and losing a parent at their young ages. They handle themselves so well, considering, and I'm in awe of each of them.

If there is one thing that I want my babies to always know of me...it's that their mom values nothing more in this world than time, like that, spent with them. It's such an honor and privilege being their mother. I've learned just as much from them as I've probably taught them; if not more.

Relishing in His goodness...

Christy

IstndAmzd79@gmail.com

Monday, June 27, 2022

A Letter to My Late Husband on Father's Day

Dear husband of mine,

Typing this letter out to you feels just as surreal as writing your eulogy felt, last year. I don't remember much from the day you left this world, but I do remember one of the things that mama said to me, "He's leaving a legacy in the form of precious children and you get the pleasure of raising them." I got the best of you when you gave me our babies.

I'd take the heartache a gazillion times over if it meant we'd get to create such precious little souls together. I couldn't have fathomed I'd still be raising any of them when you left this world, though.

We didn't get to serve you breakfast in bed, or go swimming with you, or have a big cookout...all of the simple things that made you the happiest every Father's Day. But you were on our minds and in our hearts all day. I pray that you felt all of our love to you from here. I can only imagine that while you probably didn't celebrate an occasion such as Father's Day, up there today, that this was the best Father's Day you've ever had.

Days, like today, make me so thankful that Revelations 21:4 tells us that "And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be anymore pain, for the former things have passed away." I'm thankful that you can't feel the sorrow that your passing left behind. Our littlest guy has had a tough day. They all have, really. I can't fix it. All that I can do is pray and love on them. Each time I see them cry, though, I can't help but to feel as though my efforts will never be enough. I'm trying so incredibly hard to make their lives a little easier and their grief process more bearable. I feel incredibly weak, today. Even as I spill these words from my heart, I know that you can't feel this despair and I'm glad that you can't.

My plan, to celebrate you, was to have the kids write you letters on lanterns to send up into the sky...but Jacob wasn't emotionally ready for that. So, we did it tonight (Monday, the day after Father's Day...why does it always take me so long just to do one post, these days?) instead. The kids really seemed to enjoy doing that for you.

My prayer is that it helped them, even if in just a small way. It was emotional for me. I thought my knees would give out as I lit my lantern and let it go. It's such a small insignificant gesture, I suppose, but it felt like saying goodbye again. I've said goodbye to you a million times, it seems, in these past ten months. I don't know when that stops but I know that it hasn't gotten any easier.

I constantly thanked you in life, but I can't help but continue to thank you for making sure that your wife and children (including ones who weren't biologically yours) were always taken care of. I am forever grateful for the life we created together. Loving and missing you on this first Father's Day without you, and for all of my remaining days.