Dawning
My baby girl’s wild hair brushed up against my face. Her body slumped perfectly into my arms, as I draped a blanket over us. She snuggled in. Her weight was the perfect kind of warmth. I brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. A movie played on the television, the tree was lit, our bellies were full from supper and the delicious and calming aroma of Christmas candles filled our home. I looked around and realized I was living in a Hallmark movie. Tears started to flow. Each tear stain was a sacred symbol of gratitude toward God.
Because it wasn’t always this way.
It wasn’t even this way when Riley was alive, and I’ll tell you why. I used to take this exact scenario for granted. My mind was probably busy, and my head was overwhelmed by the daily grind and all of the chaos that the holidays bring. There was no way I was content in this moment because I was filled to the brim of all the distractions of my life. But tragedy has a funny way of flipping your world upside down. Death comes to you like a thief in the night, but then, somehow, it leaves you with a shocking gift- a gift of a new, unshakable perspective. One that you’ll only know if you’ve experienced significant loss. It’s a contentment you can only feel once the worst possible thing has happened. That’s when these tiny moments overwhelm your heart and head with a ridiculous amount of joy and bliss and gratitude.
But it wasn’t the perfect cozy Christmas scene I was most grateful. It was who I was sharing it with. It was Ford. I looked over, and his eyes told the story I was feeling. No words were needed. We both had the overwhelming realization of how good our God is. His arms wrapped around us like a safe fortress. Khloe’s head rested perfectly on his chest, and his fingers locked with mine seamlessly—pure contentment. Her wide and beautiful blue eyes looked up at the two of us and said, “Mama, we are a family.” My tears turned into silent sobs that trickled down into Khloe’s hair. Her head gently shook with each breath I took. My face was drenched in happy tears as I squeezed Ford’s hand. “Lord, you are so good to us,” I heard him whisper. The words I was thinking but could not utter out loud.
This moment was the realization of a new dawning.
A dawning of light and love and anticipation for something brand new. God has so graciously taken my hand and walked me out of the valley of the shadow of death. I can see the light again. It’s in the distance, and it’s brilliant and hope-filled, and just plain good. He is fulfilling his promise that goodness and mercy will follow me all of the days of my life. It’s a stunning promise. Honestly, it’s a promise I had not believed in for a long time. A promise I scoffed at when I buried my 28-year-old husband with our 10-month-old daughter on my hip. Goodness and mercy? In my life? I couldn’t see it. I didn’t believe in it some nights. I didn’t think it was possible. But he is walking me into a new season, and although stunned, I will follow him wide-eyed into this new dawning.
I believe God walks us in and out of seasons. I’m learning there are seasons for people, and vocations, and careers in our life. There are seasons for hobbies and travel and fun. There seem to be seasons of loneliness and business- grief and bliss. The season I’m walking into seems to be one of simplicity. Uncomplicated. A season of contentment and freedom. A season of boundaries. A season of new and old friends yet very exclusive relationships. Ones that bring joy and light and laughter. Lately, I have been enjoying the tiniest things, like cooking homemade meals. Or sipping my coffee extra slowly in the morning. I have seen it in fleece socks and dancing Christmas lights, and delicious pie. I have been overwhelmed by it with the helpmate and partner the Lord has graciously given me. I’ve found joy in realizing I do not have to do this life alone anymore. I’ve seen it in the promise that heaven is waiting for me, and I get the privilege to hang out here on earth a little longer with a family I thought would never be my own.
This season he is walking me into feels light and airy and good. It feels like rest and relief. A dawning of restoration and healing from the season I am stepping out of. Will it be perfect? No. Will I experience hardship again? Absolutely. However, I know we experience hills and valleys in our life, and you better believe I’m ready to hang out on the mountaintop for a while. I will bask in every second of it and embrace this new dawning. I will soak in all of His goodness and mercy in this new season.
