It was never going to be smooth, but our landing Stateside has been bumpy.
The night we touched down, my beloved Mamaw– the one who taught me to make chicken and dumplings, the one who took me to church, the one who promised me that I could do this wife and mothering thing– passed away. She had been diagnosed with brain cancer 12 days before, and as her last act of mercy and love to me, she asked that I not be informed until my feet were back on U.S. soil, where I stood a chance of coming to her side.
What she didn’t know was that her time was shorter than the doctor’s predicted, and that rather than rushing to her side to say goodbye in the days after landing, I would be among the mourners at her final goodbye: jet lagged, exhausted, but grateful for a chance to celebrate the most godly woman I have had the privilege of knowing.
I am back now, sleeping under my in-law’s roof, ushering shellshocked children through transition, wondering what comes next. I have compared these past months to the peeling of an onion, to the shedding of layers. Now, I sit here utterly bare and unsure that anything is left to strip away. I long for the rebuilding.
I am praying for you all. Hugs.
My thoughts are with you and your family. I’m so sorry. It really sucks when God prunes you to the roots. but you’ll sprout again. I’m sure of it.
love you! The pic looks like birdie!
I’m sorry for the loss of so much in a short time. Praying.
I am praying. Your MawMaw sounds like an amazing woman. I am just so very sorry for your loss.
I am so very sorry to hear of your loss, on top of everything else. Praying for a great deal of grace and comfort for you.
Oh, Heather, I didn’t know that she’d asked for you not to know until you were back. So thoughtful! Continuing to pray for your whole family during this crazy season of your lives.
I just stumbled on your blog and read this article (as well as your one about speaking well of our kids and husbands). I moved back state-side at the end of May. I don’t know if you’d be interested in a penpal or have the time, but I’d love to hear your story.