I climb the stairs.
A routine established each night.
His door is the first at the top of the stairs.
Everything is so quiet.
Two are at camp.
One in heaven.
I make a comment on face book about wanting to keep my kids young.
The responses are interesting.
No, they say.
You want them to grow up and enjoy all they will become.
Right now, those thoughts are hard to embrace.
When they were young they were all here.
They were safe.
We have enjoyed the oldest.
Moving to Maine.
Even in the midst of death and cancer we have rejoiced.
We have felt the rhythm of the cycles.
Willingly or not.
It is hard to look into the future.
A future that does not include Elijah.
It is so wrong.
Yet it is the reality.
So no, I don't want my kids to grow up right now.
But they will.
Time will march on.
We will live through the Anniversary of the accident.
Clarissa will graduate.
I will place my worry and cares at the foot of the cross.
I will voice every fear I have; loudly and repeatedly until they have no voice.
Living fully is my desire.
God hears our cries for mercy.
He continually sends grace.
He is my comfort, my hope and my rock.
It is through him the fullness will come.
Trusting each moment of the journey.
Today, Elijah had 4 days left.
Make your days count.
Give that grace.
Take a deeper breath.
Call the estranged friend.
Repair the damage in the marriage.
Hold your child a little longer.
Speak life giving words into their soul.
Step into hope.
Never, ever give up.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain,