a faith observed: Solo parenting

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Solo parenting

Solo parenting with a beautiful little girl named Gracie. Easy - peesy so far. It's just the two of us and I feel like holidays have officially started for me!

What have we done so far? Nap, walk to the grocery store, eat, bath, and play with our toes! Grace has found her toes and it's so gorgeous. She also did two big "blow outs" and really enjoyed all the time on the bed without her nappie on. She kept grabbing her toes and rolling over half way. She's rolled over a few times now (with a little help) and once all by herself. So no more leaving her on things like the couch.

It's also about time to graduate from the bouncer (on top of the counter top). She has nearly gotten out of it and nearly tipped it over several times. Grace is so STRONG, and when she doesn't want to be in the bouncer any more - or wants FOOD!- I think she'll soon tip it over!

Still loving her rice cereal. Tried grabbing the sushi out of my hand this afternoon! And keeps grabbing our plates, eyeing off our food, and smiling at our dishes (I think she loves the blue and white print).

She is in 9 month clothes- fills them out length wise. So tall. I can't believe she's wearing clothes that Simon wore at one year! and nearly too tall for them. all the sleep bags that are 0-1 year her legs are at the bottom! Again, I think Si was in those for at least 18 months!

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This is me, a faith observed.

C.S. Lewis writes about the pain of losing his beloved wife, Joy, in his book, "A Grief Observed". In some ways this is my attempt to share my journey through grief and back into life, as the past nine months have been characterized by an immeasurable longing for my beloved father, who died suddenly this past January.

After months of hibernation from the internet, I unexpectedly find myself able to re-begin this blog and connect with my larger community of family and friends. This blog will likely reflect less of the intensity and depth of my pain and more of the simplicity and ordinary joy that keeps my life full - namely days running after our little boy, Simon Pierre. But it is because of the incredible love and presence that defined my relationship with my father, that I feel I can will myself to not just survive each day but to pour that same kind of love and attention onto Simon.

My father was an endless source of strength to me, a pillar of faith. His last words, spoken to my mother as he passed into that which is unseen, "God is good - good all the time", have remained with me through this dark cloud of grief. And when God seems hidden, when justice seems to be losing out, when life is unfair, and when death swallows up the one I most love, I remember my father's words and breathe in this promise, that the God of love is in the process of restoring that which has been destroyed.

And as my father told me in dream I've had since his death, "Look to Jesus. As a father, to point you towards Him is the best gift I can give to you." So here I am, this is me, a faith to be observed.

I hold onto that which is not always seen- the promise of God's goodness, the hope that one day in the promised new heavens and earth- on a grassy hill or a sand covered beach- the lion and the lamb will lie down side by side and I, too, will lie down side by side, next to my father, and we will laugh and laugh until there are no more tears left to cry.