One Page at a Time.

one page, one story, one life.

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Faith is Everything.

My faith is everything. I could and would not have survived the events of my life without it.

The level of loss I’ve endured is immeasurable. It cannot be put into words or placed on a time table. Once grief takes hold, and believe me it holds tight, it eventually becomes apart of you. It has a life of its own. Mine resides in my heart wrapped in my hope and faith.

The faith that our Father will, always to my well-being. The hope that one day I will be with my beloved husband and son again.

Faith that with Jesus by my side I live. Because without Him I would disintegrate into ash. The dust I came from.

Yes. Faith is everything.

A strong tower and fortress. Rest for the weary of body and spirit. Life in the shadow of death.

Faith is the light. The sun on my face, His breath in my lungs, the beat of a broken heart that continues to beat.

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One Page a Day * Day 1

Quiet. I live in quiet – well except for the tv, the fan, and my pups. My phone, on silent vibrate, doesn’t ring, not because of the settings but because no one calls.

The laundry sits in baskets, folded and quiet, as laundry is. I crochet while the pups nap. This is my quiet – tv telling a story and the fan whirring. This is my quiet. I’ve watched too many series’ to completion simply listening as I crochet. It’s sort of like a story being read to me. Though oddly, I don’t like audible. Go figure. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m used to the voices of the shows I watch.

So knowing I need to do something after four long years of this quiet. My quiet. I need to write. But each time I try I blank, or lose interest.

Lately I’m frustrated with the quiet. I’ve come to know the “new” me in my “new” normal. Someone who didn’t exist four years ago. The “new” me has to fight fear. Has to go to therapy and take meds – having to pack the pills weekly like an 85 year old.

The “new” me has com to enjoy being alone – well, with the pups. Has come to patience in the waiting, though, come to think of it, I don’t know what I’m waiting for. So I continue to wait. In my quiet world, I wait. I’m okay with it, really, I am. I anticipate the event after the waiting.

Quiet. Patient. Waiting.