So we just moved into our sixth house in a little over three years. Yes you read that right. We moved back to a town that we love, and that we missed from the day that we left. The little house that we bought needed a lot of love, so we did a total gut, and now it is dreamy. We want to add-on eventually to make it a little more usable for us long-term, but for right now, Mary Kathryn sleeps in a future office or playroom with a little barn door off our dining room, and it works. I found a ship knot to prop the barn door closed tighter, and she thinks it’s perfect for her sassy little squishy 17 month old self, and I do too. Meanwhile, William has the room of his dreams filled with all things ship and beach related.
We’re opening a business for the first time, and we are just launching into unfamiliar territory in a very familiar place. I knew that moving here wouldn’t be the same from when we left, but it’s hit me day by day as we have been here… grief… sadness… missing my Mary Anna.
You see she was born in Birmingham, but basically her whole life in utero was in Auburn. We dreamed of her here, set up her nursery, and planned for her life in this sleepy little football town. So, this place has always had a piece of my heart. As we begin to roam the same familiar streets again, I see her.
in my favorite coffee shop…
in the same publix that I used to weep walking the aisles after we lost her just wanting to buy a paci or baby wipes…
in our favorite pizza place…
and bagel shop…
in the parks that she should have played at…
in the eyes of the people who knew us and walked through life with us during that time…
I see you everywhere baby girl. You are always with us. We miss you immensely, and I’ve learned that each new place we acquire as our home, that I realize more and more the hole in our hearts for you. I wish I had your artwork to hang, and your little dresses to iron. I wish I knew your favorite color, and if you liked sweet or salty things. I often wonder if you’d be tall and lean like William or squishy like your baby sister.
You are our motivation. We named daddy’s new clinic after you, and there is no one that drives us more than you do.
I told your daddy the other night that the one thing that I knew to be true is how strong you were. Your strength is what gives me strength.
Thank you for always teaching us how to Keep Walking, my girl.
So, yeah… I’m weeping. Eating a soggy apple. My head hurts, and I am tired of unpacking.
A dear friend here asked me to go to a wreath making thing in a few weeks. Those things sound fun and holiday ish, and I love Christmas, and I love friends. And cookies. Amen. But things like that stress me out, because it forces me to enter into a new season of telling my story. Of telling of Mary Anna.
I told her I’d go, and then I wasn’t sure if I could go. She gracefully told me to stop unpacking and write.
So I did.
Here I am….
Christ is in this. I know He is. Sometimes I can’t figure it all out, and I don’t know why this is our story, but it is.
On Christ the solid rock I stand.
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand.