Poetry & Words

POETRY & WORDS :: Five Months Ago, She Slipped Away

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Five months ago, she was met with the loudest hallelujahs.

I didn’t hear any of them.

Five months ago, she slipped free from this realm.

I’m still earthbound.

These five months have been the longest, and the shortest.  It feels like I should be able to walk backwards, at any time, and fall right back into where I was when we were all a decade younger and a decade louder and only a decade away from the day when she’d fly home, right there, in front of all of us.

Oh, if we would have known then that those Friday nights were once-in-a-lifetime, if we would have known then that’s all we were given on this side of the sky. But we didn’t know, of course; we never knew and we still don’t know. Today we might very well be sitting inside the same kind of golden moment that will we’ll look back on from the next decade, the same golden moment that we will look back on through the fading edges of time. We’ll want to grab it; but we won’t be able to.

But we can hold on to this moment we’re sitting inside of now.

We can hold onto it now, and hold on to our people, and hold onto it all while we can, hold onto it with open arms and wild abandon and the kind of joy that’s poured out of heaven’s lap itself — we can hold onto it all until it’s time to let go. And then we’ll hold onto our God, and he’ll hold onto us, and he’ll hold us there in the storm so we won’t fold over when the winds grows fierce and the winds rip up the roots and the winds change it all.

And in the quietness and in the roar, through the tears and the laughter and the journeys that make up everyday living, I can sing —

— it is well

it is well

it is well with my soul.

 

Poetry & Words

WRITING & WORDS :: Life eats up words, sometimes.

Words toss and tumble around in my head, and as I pick up Cheerios off the floor and tell the curious toddler to please stop banging her sippy cup on the furniture, I mentally line up the words and phrases.

But then, when it is finally still and quiet, I look at the clock and wonder where all the minutes have gone. I sit down to write, and discover I cannot remember any of the words my mind wrote hours before.

And then I realize it’s okay, because the words have been eaten up by life. Beautiful, vibrant, loud, wonderful life.

[Image taken on a rare cold day earlier this year.]