A Life Dismantled

We took a week off and traveled cross country, stopping in and catching up with beloved family and friends. I had hoped we could somehow outrun it, in new and unfamiliar surroundings. But it followed along, catching a ride along with our other luggage. Getting ready for the day ahead I still found myself crying before giving up on the mascara. When recalling the momentous river adventures that I wanted so badly to be able to tell someone who wasn't at home waiting for us to return, I remembered.

In the last few weeks, its been awkward, almost ridiculous the fact that we have lost both of our fathers and a son-in-law, when sharing the news with others.

Today I ventured again to my daughter's house to pack up more of her things. I wrapped glasses and carried boxes to the truck and thought of how this shouldn't be happening, this storing up of memories that never got to be made. Folding up Alex's clothes and uniforms and washing his dirty socks just because. I remembered the verse in Proverbs that says that a wise woman builds her house, but a foolish one tears it down with her own hands and I could somehow relate to both. As it feels like everything around me is falling down and in need of healing and restoration, I feel both wise and foolish. But somewhere in the midst of it all I found an old worn soldier's Bible. This one thing I asked my girl if I could keep. He had written his name in the inside front cover and it had obviously been carried around in his uniform pocket. On this day, it was a spark of hope. A reminder that we have a sure foundation, even when it looks like everything is falling apart.


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