Today, I really felt, maybe for the first time, all the newness and possibility that a new year can hold. I am full of hope for 2015. I am, I am. I don’t want to forget last year, I just want to stop letting sorrow define me, a trap I have fallen into these past five months.
Last Sunday, the priest began his homily with a sentence or two about the fact that only God gives life and only God allows it to be taken away. The rest of the homily, about the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, seemed unrelated to those words, but maybe I just wasn’t paying close enough attention to make the connections. Strangely, in my opinion, he closed with the famous words from the book of Job, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
I felt like those words were meant for me. A gentle, “Accept it, Ginny.”
A couple days later, I decided that maybe I ought to put away some of the daily reminders of Sarah, thinking that maybe it would help ease the sadness that still strikes so often. And I swear, within moments of having that thought, I heard Keats downstairs on his violin playing “All Creatures of our God and King” by ear. He never plays that song, never. It was Sarah’s hymn. And those notes rising up the stairs, they were a reminder of all the little miracles that have surrounded all of us who love Sarah in these months since she died. I think we could write a book. I don’t want these little reminders of her to stop coming, not only because I don’t want to forget my friend, but because the nature of them is so intimately tied to the fact that God loves us.
A time will come when Sarah’s memory will make me smile rather than cry. The second I heard Keats playing her hymn that night, I was reminded of that truth, and in that moment, I did smile. I smiled at the miracle of it all, the miracles both big and small that arise from tragedy. Someday those same notes will remind me of my dear friend, and I will think of how blessed I was to have known her while she was here. Gratitude will gradually replace the sorrow. Because that is the only way.
Life is good. It really is.
Happy New Year, friends. Happy New Year to you all. Thank you for being here, thank you for reaching out. Truly, I can’t thank you all enough.
p.s. Pie! You must make that butterscotch pie! (The photo of the recipe is above, in case you missed it. The recipe is from Cooking from Quilt Country
Somehow I think you may have already turned that corner from grief to gratitude. I can “hear” a bit of joy in your post. And yes this year is so full of potential I am excited to see what comes. I wish you and your family a very happy new year all year long!
Oh please write a book of the small miracles after Sarah’s passing. I would totally love to buy and read that book!!!
Sending love and prayers and I frequently look at the bead that Sarah made that a Eve gave me.
Kerry (Eve’s friend)
Happy New Year to you & your family, Ginny! Your words about your dear friend really touched me. Thank you for sharing your reminders of hope and love. And I must mention that Seth’s metal detecting collection is truly awesome! (I assume that’s what is in those photos) What a lot of fun. My grandma used to go metal detecting; I can remember going with her. Also, I have that cookbook and I will be all over that pie. : )
A new year..a new beginning.
Your last post was lovely. I have read back to the posts about Sarah. What a terrible tragedy.
You won’t forget what happened and you wont forget how you loved her. You just move on.
In time you will smile, thats the nature of humans.
Dear Ginny,
Your blog has touched my heart for almost a year since a friend sent me the link. You are truly an inspiration and I enjoy your writings. May God bless you and your family. Prayers continue for Sarah’s family.