Last winter seemed to hang on forever - both outside my window and in my heart and emotions. By March I could relate to the scene outside my window. I knew there were green shoots of new life growing just under the ground, but they hadn't yet broken through the brown and cold soil. It was not yet time.
Spring finally burst forth - both in the garden bed and within my life. New paths grew and bloomed, and in the midst of the busyness of studies I found doors opening that had never been there before as summer made its way.
The fall chill is now in the air. As leaves drift to the ground, I draw upon what I've learned about grief to help our two children mourn the kitty that they had known their whole lives. As my husband writes, "She was a quiet friend ..." After decorating memorial stones and holding a funeral, our family went out to see a movie together. The moments of mourning in Big Hero 6 seemed appropriate for our day . . . and then in the midst of the movie, a reminder that there were parts of our story still to be written. A character introduced, the joy of her father, appropriately named Abigail.
Later that night I opened my email to read, "Every child of promise is a call for your attention, proof that the LORD keeps His Promises."
Child of promise.
