Last Friday, we spent a good chunk of time outside cleaning up leaves.
Benji and I were busy raking the backyard, and Little Miss was watching us and walking around, occasionally dragging a rake across the yard. The others helped too, and everyone jumped.
As we were working, I found myself thinking back to these photos from two years ago.
And when I look at these photos, I see my baby who was only almost 1.
And I know my heart was still breaking because my dad had just died.
There was evidence of death all around me as the leaves swirled to the ground to rest.
And the children played in them, which was (is) beautiful, the living and the dead still entangled.
And I can't really figure out how it is that holes heal, but somehow they do, even though they leave you changed.
And I can't handle the sting that my baby is going to be three. Because, truth is, I yearn for another one. And feel so much gratitude to God, who sent this baby at a time that has maybe been the most excruciating of my life. My, the sunshine she has brought. I know, at least in part, why she didn't come when we had initially hoped for her.
She was needed now.
And all I really have to say is that all of it, all of this, all of these thoughts, make me wistful and happy and sad and grateful, all at the same time.