Her Mother's Rose

Rebloom

Photo by bgrace

Rose From Brier

Thou hast not that, my child, but thou hast Me;

And am I not alone enough for thee?

I know it all, know how thy heart was set

Upon this joy which is not given yet.

And well I know how through the wistful days

Thou walkest all the dear familiar ways

As unregarded as a breath of air;

But there in love and longing, always there.

I know it all; but from thy brier shall blow

A rose for others. If it were not so

I would have told thee. Come, then, say to Me:

My Lord, my Love, I am content with Thee.

By Amy Carmichael

Last night I put the finishing touches on Ted and Nancy's Album. (He hasn't gotten around to figuring out how to get on my blog yet, so I'm pretty sure this won't ruin the surprise. I wanted to find some way to express my gratitude for their care for me and Matt. There is no way I can repay them, and I know very well that Ted and Nancy would much rather I pass on the blessing to someone else than try to give it back. But I wanted to at least tell the story of the week we spent with them. So I loaded up an album with photos, excerpts from my posts, some poetry, and love.

Matt and I were working on projects at the dining room table, sipping sweet wine. Sam was resting at our feet, and the rest of the house was quiet. Matt asked me how I slept last night, how my day went and how I was doing, if I was ok. I knew he was being extra caring because he'd read my posts the night before and was concerned.

So I told him, "You know, I'm doing ok because I've actually been able for the first time in three years been able to ignore it all for the most part. And I've kept so busy (we froze 15 dozen ears of corn yesterday) that I haven't had time to think about anything." But last night when I collapsed into the bathtub my mind just started to swirl again. I made it through another September 3rd and this time I had barely thought about it. "It's like this," I said to Matt, "I just realized tonight that it was September 3rd, and I still have a husband." He looked at me with a smirk and said, "And every year there's more of me to love." (We'd been clothes shopping for him this week.) It just means so much to me that we can actually talk about these things, and Matt amazes me with his ability to deal with it all. I tried to explain, "As much as I don't want these things to happen, if they don't, I don't have any way of understanding the things that have happened. And my mind keeps trying to be able to make sense of it all, and..." "And it feels like you keep coming to a dead end every time?" he said. "Exactly, I said, "And it just feels like I've been through all that I've been through for nothing."

"Oh, I think today is September 2nd," he said. Great. Now I have to get through tomorrow. But as I snuggled close to Matt this morning a sense of peace came over me. I'm ok in the now. Matt and I are closer than we have ever been--even in the midst of all the questions. I would be so heartbroken if anything happened to him. And it feels normal to feel that way. And it feels so good to feel normal. There is so much unresolved, so much that has been taken, and yet so much beauty remains.

The rose in the picture is on a bush that belonged to Nancy's mother who passed away. It was so beautiful that I couldn't help but take some pictures. It's very special to Nancy, and I can't help but think it must be like having her mother's spirit rebloom with every new flower. A bittersweet reminder of her life. I hope Nancy likes the pictures.

As I look at them they remind me of my life, painfully beautiful. I'm so thankful for Matt, and for what we have--a deeply real relationship in the midst of so much that seems unreal, a beautiful family--full of love for children we greatly cherish. And perhaps that thought that I could lose all that makes it all that much more precious. It's true for all of us, isn't it? But because of all I've experienced, it just seems all that much more real a possibility.

Her Mother's Rose