Change is Coming

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Yesterday, as I sat at the kitchen table adding to my one thousand gifts gratitude list, I glanced up -- and traveled through time.

That's how it felt, at least. 

In that single glimpse of the sun shining outdoors while I sat writing at the table was enough to transport me back to October 2012, when I sat painting at that same table during a similarly sunny afternoon.

Back to before -- before stillbirth rocked our lives, changing my world forever.

It felt shocking.  To plunge, even for a moment, back into that time of innocence, when I never dreamed that babies could be lost once the threshold to the second trimester was crossed.  To a time when the safe arrival of our first child in January was nothing less than a guarantee.

I can never go back there.  The innocence, the blissful believing -- I don't know that they can be regained.

Here is the strange part -- I'm not sure if I even want to go back there.  It seems like to try to do so would waste the death of my precious Eve.

Because here is what I'm realizing -- her death and life are changing me in more ways than I could at first see.  This goes beyond being forced to reexamine my beliefs about prayer and death and life and Life.  It goes beyond her absence leaving space within me for empathy to be sown.  Beyond burning off some empty behaviors, beyond the loss of innocence.

There is more that she is giving me.  So much more.  I don't fully understand it yet . . . but I can feel it.

Values and priorities . . . relationships . . . habits . . . how I act and how I think . . . plans for the future . . . hopes, dreams . . . creativity -- nothing is safe.  Nothing will be left as it is.  As it was, before. 

I don't know who I am, or who I am becoming.  But change is coming.  It is nearly here.

Going back to before, even if it was possible, is no longer an option.

I think that I am grateful.  Nervous, but grateful.

People who have gone through devastating loss, they call this the "new normal."  Perhaps now, nearly 6 months after her body died and was born, I am on the brink of discovering what mine will be.

I feel like I am standing on the edge of a cliff, and an earthquake is churning the ground behind me, its rumblings racing toward where I perch.  My only choice is to jump.

I am ready.  I want to be ready.  Make me ready, Lord.

I know Whose arms will catch me.

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