a faith observed: Dahhhh-leee.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Dahhhh-leee.

Gracie's got a doll (named Missy Kissy) and I am loving this new season of life and play. For those who know me well, I LOVED my dolls. Absolutely, absolutely loved them. So there is nothing cuter than to see my cute little tomboy, VERY excited and very attached to her very own Dahhhh-leeee. This morning we dressed her up in all combinations of Simon, Gracie's, and my own old baby clothes. Then we put her on her pottie, gave her a bottle and watched her pee several times, to Gracie's delight. Gracie is very attached to her dummy (pacifier) right now which she calls, "bee bee" and guess what? Dollie has a bee bee too.

Note: Gracie also has a pink kitty who has become a favourite. Whenever she realizes Kitty isn't nearby she calls out with a worried little voice and takes off to find dollie and kitty. She's super organized by nature(when we say we're going somewhere she brings all of us our bags, shoes, and keys and is at the door herself a good 15 mintues before I'm ready to go) so she usually finds her kitty and her dollie. I also LOVED kitties and my special stuffed animals and find this kitty attachment also incredibly cute and endearing.

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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.