a faith observed: A first.

Friday, September 30, 2011

A first.

Okay, so I think this smelling flowers thing is the beginning of a dramatic new Liz. I've discovered that I like "crafting" and yes, have finished my first of (perhaps many) projects.

I saw one of these pegboards at an auction recently and loved it. So I decided to give it a go myself- I've been wanting to use Gracie's wraps in some way to remember her as a baby, so I used this one (a present from her auntie Rachel) on this pegboard which will be a great way to display photos and her artwork.

Gracie seemed to like it. She also liked the free photo shoot I got conned into at the mall today (I thought we'd end up with one free photo but no, we now have an appointment to come in and look at the photos which I must phone and cancel b/c how hard will it be to resist those picys once they are in front of me?!). "Oh come on in for a free pic of your bubbie.... there's no one here right now so you're doing us a favour for advertising." It was pretty fun to see Gracie in an array of pink hats, flowers, and hairbands, sitting in a box and on a pink star catching bubbles. Actually more than fun.. she was freaking adorable and made me realize that every little girl should accessorize every now and then.

The cuter part, however, was hearing her tell her daddy about it when we got home. "Hat. Pink hat. Box. Bubbles. Catch Bubbles. Flower. Hat." I really can not believe her vocabulary, pronunciation, and ability to communicate. She is really talking. And loves books and will accurately tell you almost every picture in a picture book. And if you ask her to find something in a book she always begins, "Ummmmmm....." and then points to the picture with a big smile on her face.

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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.