“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, 4 always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy,5 because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. 6 And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1:3-7
Sometimes one spirit,
feels too far away when in two bodies
And your mind is a mess with stress
and mine is just
And it amazes me just how possible
impossible days come
and come back again
Like a chill neither of us meant to catch
n o n e t h e l e s s
On days like these days
I can’t find you . . .
though you’re right in front of me
you’re not beside
and your thoughts reside
e l s e w h e r e
And there is not somewhere I can go with you –
because you didn’t invite me
It’s not a burden I can help you bear
because you took it on alone
Still somehow I carry the weight
for you to set it down
to look at me
to let me back in
for offenses both real
and made real by believing I meant to offend
for moments lost
for moments thrown away
If I tell you that I love you
could it help?
Could it heal?
because I know you know
but knowing doesn’t seem like enough
I need you to know
and I need me
e n o u g h
Bella Grace Magazine’s special issue Cozy is out again! It is my favorite time of year because it reminds us to tuck in and surround ourselves with all of the warmth, joy, and spirit of the coming season. The stretch of days between the first leaves of Fall and the first snowflakes of winter are magical with anticipation. Cozy is just another way to celebrate them. I was excited to, once again, be a part of these ink and comfort saturated pages.
I hope that you will not only pick up your own inspirational copy, but also take the time to drop me a message of what you do to stay cozy on these cinnamon tea and hot cocoa days. I’d love to hear your own personal version of comfort. Hearing from you is my delight.
The worst possible reality was hers – she had just received the news that her daughter died. Had just gone through the funeral. Had just tried to return to something as “normal” as a soccer game … with the deep seated reality that nothing would ever be normal again. That was where I found her.
After the awkward, fragile niceties, I broached the impossible question, “How are you?”
“All I want to do is talk about her,” she said. “People don’t know if they should bring her up or not, but I want to remember everything. She was my best friend.”
I had nothing to offer her aside from my tears – my tears and a memory.
“I’ll never forget the first time I met her,” I handed over my words gently, wrapping the moment in my softest tone. I remember her eyes – hungry with hope, with desire for any fragment of a memory I could give her. “She climbed in my lap and touched my freckles. Then she told me I had a lot of polka-dots.”
And she laughed.
And I laughed.
And I knew it was the bereavement gift she needed.
I believe the most precious commodity we have to give, to trade, and most importantly to keep, are memories. The immeasurable value in giving a hidden chapter to a story you thought was over … what could possibly matter more than that? What could ever replace the value of another page? Another line? Another word spoken from a “voice” you never thought you’d hear from again?
I’m writing to ask a favor. Please share a memory … no matter how small or insignificant you think the interaction might be. Send the picture, share the card with their signature, and always tell the story. Keep trading the hope of memories lost, and found.