I remember. I won't forget.

Today is Lydia Celeste's fifth birthday.  I saw her last week.  Those sweet eyes of her.  I heard her say, "oh, my!"  in the same cute sing-song voice that Kristi had.  The day of her birth changed us all.

                                                Kristi with Lydia on her 2nd birthday

I was out of town when she was born.  I don't remember where we were.  I've tried to think it through over and over again.  I'm not sure if it was just a family trip or maybe something with youth group?  I just remember trying to figure out a plan to be there when she was born, or maybe just being excited to help when Kristi came home.

I wish I could remember who told me that her collar bone had broken during labor.  Did Dean get it in a group text?  I wish I could remember if it was Kristi's voice that told me.

I do remember walking outside to talk to Robert so my kids wouldn't hear me cry.  I was hoping to get details from him, but I ended up just sobbing and saying I'm sorry a lot.  I was sorry I wasn't there.  I was sorry that it was happening.  Sorry that I didn't know what to say.  I just know that was the first time I cried over her cancer.

I remember praying with some of the best people in my little living room.  Not just once.  So many prayers.

Constantly being reminded of the hope of Heaven.

She said it the first week of hearing of her sickness, and she said it over and over again for the next years.  "I am confident my Father will heal me.  It just might not be here on the earth."

Oh, she hurt.  She was so pitiful walking.  But, she still smiled and carried on like it was not a big deal.

I'm so modest, and she just never was.  I remember helping her get dressed, and her giggling as I turned my head as I tried to help her with her pants.  OK, we both laughed.  A lot.  I might've left her pants half up because I needed to guffaw a bit.  Her hand was on me so she wouldn't fall, but laughing over our differences.

Her hair started falling out quickly after the first treatments of medicine.  She was so lovely and cute.

                                                         Kristi with Aidyn

The four years of cancer were beautiful.  They were so full of hope and joy.  We all experienced so much grace and depth.  When I say we I mean all that were surrounding her.  Friends and family.

It was a roller coaster that was constantly moving me closer to Heaven too.

I wish I could say that it's been sweet and joyful since she's been gone.  I wish I could say that it's been rosy and lollipops.

There has been depth and sorrow.  Looking back at the last few months I do see that it's beautiful.  I've read poems and so much literature about how winter is beautiful.  How there is growth and life even when the trees and earth look bare.

I miss her.  It's been eight months, and I miss her counsel.  I miss her reaction to my silliness.  I miss the look she would give when she was would gently ask these questions to figure out what I was thinking.  She was so great at loving me.

But.

Hey, listen.

Because, my life is changing.

There is dancing even in the mourning.

I've seen my two big kids sweat that gross sportsy sweat.  Andrew is playing football.  He says he's living his dream.  Grace is so ready to be a great volleyball player that it is making her crazy to not be the best player ever.

This season is about to change dramatically.  I'm trying not to be scared.  I promise.  I'm terrified of my inadequacies far more than I was ever afraid of cancer.

I'll be serving tatertots and chocolate milks to not only the Casey girls and my Abigail, but also my big kids and my littlest one at Chilton Christian Academy.

The people there are full of kindness and are already loving on my kiddos.

Andrew experienced his first "good game" pat on the fanny, and wasn't expecting it.

Grace giggles every time she tells me she's a a hitter for the team.

Abigail does a happy dance every time we talk about school starting.

Joe.  Well.  He's excited about his new backpack and shoes.

My amazing friends and family have given me the sweetest support, and are constantly reminding me of hope.

I'm worried about balancing life.  I know I'm going to be the mom that forgets the details.  Mouth guards, cups, homework, knee pads, spelling words, homework, homework, HOMEWORK!

Nine days until school starts.

But, today I remember the day everything I believed about sickness, cancer, death, Heaven, healing, friendship, hope, sorrow, fear, mourning...I remember the day that my thoughts on all of that started to shift and change.

sleep over moments

I love the morning light shining through my open windows.  My kiddos and the girls have already been outside in their pajamas playing family.  I love hearing the giggles and pretend play.  They all do both so well.

Right now they have enjoyed their doughnuts and strawberries, and are watching some cartoons.

Two of the girls are looking outside at the birds.

It's hard not to reminisce and remember a few months ago my moments with Kristi.  We tried so hard to be intentional with every word we said to the kiddos.  We talked about how He takes care of the sparrows weekly.  Introducing them to hymns with those words.  Doing art projects.  Memorizing passages of Scripture.

Kristi was always planting those seeds.  Just wanting them to know they'd always be taken care of by their Maker.

Honestly.

I'm certain she repeated those words to remind herself that they'd be protected and cared for when she left this world.

I picked up my camera to do some documenting.  The SD card I picked up is full of photos of her.  I need space to shoot more.  I had to delete photos (I promise they are stored in several safe places), and that sadness that feels so familiar just hovered over me again.

Then that youngest girls of hers snuck next to me and told me she missed her mommy, and she just didn't know why.  I just did that a heavy sigh and hugged her up kinda big and said, "woooo, girl.  me too.  me too."

I miss her.  I know everyone that loved her or even had a chance meeting of her are missing her.

I read this article recently.  My word.  The blogger said some words that helped me put into to words why this is so hard for me.  I know she has peace now.  I know Heaven is her home, but I'm still just achy.

I realized that I wasn't just grieving the losses, I was also grieving who I was in those relationships. I hadn't just lost people I loved, I also lost the way they saw me, the person I was in their eyes. I lost the special way I felt loved by them and I lost my ability to show them my love. My grief was deeper than just the fact that they were no longer in my life. It was also about who I could no longer be to someone I loved. I lost a part of myself with each of them. And I would need to learn how to love myself the way they would have loved me.

I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this stuff.  I know I just don't want to forget these thoughts.  I also know that I'm not the only one that has had loss.

My days are full, and my world is changing every day.  The girls laugh and play every day.  Robert is continuing to be the strong daddy that he is.  My family is doing the best to love me so sweetly.  My friends are being patient when all I want to do is grumble.  I'm trying to not be so melancholy.  I promise.  Spring is coming, and I'm so thankful for hope.

Also.  This song came on the a Pandora Station  recently, and I want to document it here so I don't forget it.