We were floating on a sea of grief, earth-tilting, mind-numbing loss, wondering if and how the endless landscape of it would ever change...our hearts wrung out. We had just watched Jesus take Mama by the hand and lead her through the door- it closed and we couldn't follow. She stepped out of a black and white television set that crackled with interference, and into a vivid, technicolor life beyond my imagination. The grief was for ourselves, that we were left in the practice room with only faint shadows and sounds giving glimpse to the real life that awaits.
Then suddenly it was time for this baby girl to enter the room-- her newness, her life, the joy of her so sharply contrasting the emotions of loss that we gasped for breath. Fresh green shoots of spring appeared and reminded our hearts that although life is often interrupted for a while, healing and hope emerge- the cold grip of winter eventually thaws and we will breathe again.
The goodness of God had never stopped, in fact I began to know it more.
Julia Soleil arrived seemingly minutes after Mom left. I could still hear her voice echoing off the walls, smell her lotion lingering in the air. Deep emotions collided, intersecting and becoming inseparable, each as powerful as the other, with tears that felt the same. I lost my mother and what felt like moments later I became one.
I tasted life more deeply now, experienced Jesus' heart, His gentleness, more intimately, and could sometimes faintly hear the music from Mom's party, if I pressed my ear against the door.
Julia Soleil, with you came sweet whispers from Jesus' heart of hope and newness, as we walked through a dark valley. You delighted our hearts then, and even more so now. You are our strong, beautiful, wise, passionate, loving girl. You made me a mother, and I'm wildly proud of who you are. Happy birthday, darling.