Today was a normal day.
We did school.
We ate lunch.
We snuggled.
We read stories.
The kids struggled to listen at times.
I made phone calls, returned emails.
We shopped and went to gymnastics.
We ate dinner.
We put the kids to bed.
All the while, I was silenting reflecting on my son. On four years ago. On the life I used to know.
Four years ago tonight, my seemingly quiet, normal life, was flipped upside down. It was shattered to pieces and I'm still trying to figure out how it works with these broken pieces. In many ways, it feels whole, because we had Thao.
But in more ways, it feels incomplete, because we know what we are missing.
At times I'm sad because we live "normally" again. Or at least we appear to.
We don't feel normal.
And today as I thought of my dear, sweet boy, I also think of my list of blesssings.
I am thankful my son died in my arms. I am thankful I knew, at all times, where he was. I am thankful I know now, where he is. I am thankful I will go to him someday. I am thankful for photos and memories. I am thankful for uncomplicated memories that Ava has. I am thankful for Liam's blue eyes. I am thankful for a husband to loves and supports me. I am thankful for friends who listen to me cry. I am thankful for Crusoe and Isa and the hope we have for them. I am thankful that this world is not the end. I am thankful for the times I got to snuggle my son. I am thankful for life.
I am thankful for a Savior, who humbly came to earth as a baby. I don't often think of babies as strong or courageous. They are needy, beautiful, and completely dependent, yes. But our Almighty Savior, came to earth, humbly, quietly. He came to serve, not to be served. He came to love and share hope.
I am thankful for this season. Of humility. Of grace. Of hope.
I cannot help but think of all the pain and loss I've recently read about. I am so sorry, families. I cannot imagine if my son died a violent death. Maybe you are dealing with that tragic kind of loss. Or maybe you are dealing with loss that has no closure. I won't pretend to understand what it feels like to have my child taken, lost, with no way to know if they are safe or alive or being treated poorly. I am so sorry. I am just so burdened and sorry for those hurting this season and always. I pray the Lord pours peace into your soul. I pray you grasp on to it. I pray you know full well the goodness of the Lord. The hope that this baby Jesus brought to us. The restoration that awaits you.