Domains for Sale -

It has been a long, hard winter for me. Three and a half years–August will mark four years since his death. So much has changed.

Recently, the kids and I have been working at the old house—the last house “we” ever lived in together as a complete family—even if it was only for 2 ½ months. After his death, the kids and I mourned there, began the journey of healing there and learned to live again there— eventually redefining our “family” without him. It was there that God began the work of healing my broken heart and it was there in that old house that God began to show Himself as a husband to me and a Father to the children. We lived in that place over three years—sometimes in great hardship and difficulty. And now, thanks be to God, we are finally finishing the long, arduous task of moving out and another chapter of my life is closing.

When we started building this new home, I foolishly imagined that when we were ready to move, we would do so in under a week. It would be quick. It would be painless. Moving would be easy. I did not count on taking nine months to move out or nine months of paying double bills during the winter months. (I thank God for the patience of the good folks who own the home.) But with the laborious process of building of a new home—and the start of school—and five kids and life–it never happened that way. Instead, we have been nearly nine full months of ‘moving out’—piecing out and packing a little at a time when snow storms and sports, school, and church activities haven’t prevented us. But with the spring thaw and our school schedules slowing down, I have been grabbing every free opportunity to get back down to the old place to finish the job of moving.

Though the landscape around me is teeming with new life in full and vivid color, a white and gray and cold winter seems to be resting on my heart where his love once lived. I feel as though I am in the winter of my life—a premature, unending winter with no hope of springtime. The rolling green pasture lands and hill sides are breathtaking and refreshing in their new and fresh life. There is no green like spring green. I find a glimmer of hope in the face of springtime around me, but the sunny warmth has not fully permeated my heart. The warmth of his love which once surrounded me is gone and my heart is dormant and cold where love once lived.

Recently, I had the opportunity to go down to the old house and work by myself. It was nice to work in quiet solitude—and cry. I guess I haven’t had much time to do that—to sit down and reminisce and cry. I miss him so much. I wonder if I will ever get over him—the one love of my life. I am beginning to think not—and I am not sure I want to.

There are so many things I would love to tell him. My heart often aches to share the news at the end of a big day. My heart yearns to ask him for help or insight with the challenges I face at work and in parenting. I look for relief in the comfort of his arms—and he is not here. And when I allow my mind to think of the comfort of another—the comfort is generic, faceless and void of love. I find I am alone and I wonder how much longer this winter in my heart will last.

I cry because I remember the springtime and summer of our love—and it was not so many years ago. I cry. But I am finding the tear drops I cry are good. The tears are cleansing. The tears warm my face as they fall down my cheeks and my heart aches again—pain which tells me that my heart is not completely frozen. And perhaps through these tears—my heart is thawing and springtime is coming.