On Wednesday I posted my first post for this blogfest here
but that was before Wednesday morning really got going . . .before all this:
By 9a.m. on Wednesday, I had learned that my Aunt Linda has passed away the night before, my youngest daughter came to me with a rash that looked like chicken pox, a cement truck had gone down on it's side in the low ditch-like space between our neighbor's driveway and ours, and a humor-filled party type atmosphere had taken up residence in the driveway area, with work crews laughing and snapping pictures, four tow trucks, coffee, folding stools to sit on, my parents watching the whole thing like a four ring circus, and my dogs keeping an eye on everyone.
I felt like someone had taken my normal life and tipped it on it's side, shaken it, and then set it back down again.
I had grief for my Aunt, while at the same time the joy knowing that she loved the Lord, and is far happier now in heaven than she has been feeling ill for the last few months.
I had worry for my daughter, with a fever and a bubbly red rash that popped and oozed.
I had this odd and somewhat funny spectacle in my driveway.
Neighbor's driveway, work crew with cameras, one of the tow trucks attempting to lift the cement truck is dug into their front yard with its front wheels off the ground.
This pic shows my parents with their camera, coffee, folding stools and the really big tow truck in the background in our shared driveway. The white blob in the trees on the right is the concrete truck on it's side. (And yes, these are my parents age 74 and nearly 71 who took a major motor scooter trip a month ago - oh and my Dad's hat is a "joke-fake-hair" hat.)
Life just kind of blew up in my face on Wednesday . . .and I had to keep moving to keep up with it.
My daughters and I had a goal of finishing our main homeschool lessons by Thursday, and despite chicken pox, fever, family loss, and a strange cement truck, we finished! (well, except for those pesky math exercises and journal entries I expect them to do over the summer)
Thoughts and emotions, words and prayers have swirled through me these last few days, but I just keep moving on. I hug my hubby. I cuddle my kids, have conversations, pray, write.
I will never surrender to any kind of sorrow, grief, or worry that acts like a stop sign or a bottomless cliff. The joys of faith, life, and family are too full and fierce.