Lonely Eyes
Today I took the time to gently lift her into my arms and sway around the kitchen. Laying aside all of the I have to's and instead looking her in the eyes and noticing the lonely.
Wondering if my eyes look the same
I stopped cleaning up dinner and unloading the dishwasher and pulling out the vitamin regiment for the 'morrow. I started listening to the quiet of her heart. The place that was calling out for more of me in the regular moments.
Scrolling through the music on the phone, I found her song. The one I've sang to her since her NICU days. Choosing it carefully, pushing play, watching the wonder in her eyes. She did not realize it was on our devices.
Wonder replacing lonely
My little is still small enough to fit on my hip, even at seven. I tell her it's God's gift to me, being able to tote her when she gets tired or hurt or just plain lonely. Growing up isn't easy. Neither is being grown up. Knowing this, I hold her tighter and we glide around the island, cluttered with dishes to be put away. Not in this moment, though, for this moment? It's ours, hers and mine, with little arms wrapped around my neck and calves resting on my hips.
Together
I remember that she needs me in her moments, not the shell I feel I am this week. I remember how much I need Him in mine, and as we move I ask my God to give me wonder to replace the lonely. I assure Him I know that we're doing this together. I thank Him for these moments.
Ordinary
Sacred
OURS
Today, I give thanks for the moments.
Wondering if my eyes look the same
I stopped cleaning up dinner and unloading the dishwasher and pulling out the vitamin regiment for the 'morrow. I started listening to the quiet of her heart. The place that was calling out for more of me in the regular moments.
Scrolling through the music on the phone, I found her song. The one I've sang to her since her NICU days. Choosing it carefully, pushing play, watching the wonder in her eyes. She did not realize it was on our devices.
Wonder replacing lonely
My little is still small enough to fit on my hip, even at seven. I tell her it's God's gift to me, being able to tote her when she gets tired or hurt or just plain lonely. Growing up isn't easy. Neither is being grown up. Knowing this, I hold her tighter and we glide around the island, cluttered with dishes to be put away. Not in this moment, though, for this moment? It's ours, hers and mine, with little arms wrapped around my neck and calves resting on my hips.
Together
I remember that she needs me in her moments, not the shell I feel I am this week. I remember how much I need Him in mine, and as we move I ask my God to give me wonder to replace the lonely. I assure Him I know that we're doing this together. I thank Him for these moments.
Ordinary
Sacred
OURS
Today, I give thanks for the moments.
My prayer is that she will always fit on your hip...no matter how old she gets. What a beautiful picture I have of you with her today.
ReplyDeleteLove on, my friend. She will always treasure that love....and so will you.
Thank you for this blog. It is beautiful....
Love,
Jackie
So very beautiful. My 7 year-old and I had a rough day today. Thank you for this precious reminder of what it's really about.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful!! Precious moment can so easily slip away without us even taking the time to recognize that God has placed them right in front of us to give meaning and blessing to our day! Thanks for the reminder!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. Yes, may God give you wonder to replace the loneliness, or even in the midst of it. What a comfort to you both, holding and being held. You are daily in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteOh Shannon, breathtakingly beautiful. I consider this another Gitz gift- you, here, sharing your beautiful self with us. I see how much of you, was in Sara for so long... I look back with knowing eyes now, and see it was there all along...
ReplyDelete"Wonder replacing lonely," exquisite really. My nine year old with his tender heart still manages to worm his way onto my lap and I am so grateful he still longs to as much as I long for him to occupy that space. Love you sweetie!
i miss the snuggling moments because my only is now 17 and a mass of legs and arms. he will be leaving our home soon...too soon.
ReplyDeleteas you recounted your choice, i can tell that you embraced living in the moment and redeeming it for something better. hard choice, given how you're feeling. sara is applauding and grinning from heaven.
i agree with vicky. i love hearing your voice and seeing your heart. keep dancing, even if it is through tears.
Yes, you should hold your two joys everyday. How are you holding up personally? You and yours are in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteDancing in the kitchen...swaying to the music. I've found myself doing that a lot lately with my Goddaughters, and it seems to ease the pain. At least for the moment.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry you and your family are having lonely moments. Praying for you, Shannon.
ReplyDeleteHi Shannon:
ReplyDeleteWe haven't met. My name is Susie and I am a college friend of Sara's. I am one of those people who loved Sara deeply and is also feeling loneliness - I just didn't know how to describe until you did. I miss her. Even though I hadn't seen her since 2000, we kept up via emails and her blog. I wish I had visited. I wish I had skyped. I didn't. I was busy... And now I'm sad.
But I want to thank you, so much, for being in Sara's life. I want you to know that I, too, knew the smiling, laughing, singing, silly, snorting Sara!!
I wish I had found you at the funeral to hug you to let you know that you are not alone in your loss. There are many of us, and all are in my prayers.
Thank you...Susie