7 months since crash (Can you believe it?)

Dear friends,

I do not text.

Now I understand this puts me in the category of Neanderthal, but I think it’s ruining the English language and it is certainly making it impossible to decipher my children’s communication codes. I do know what BTW means, and recently learned that BFFL means “best friend for life”, but there are way too many shortcuts for my Catholic school trained mind. I mean, I come from the era of diagramming sentences, where predicates and past participles and prepositions (notice I used all p words – oh, the cleverness of me:)) were torn apart, put back together and dissected to the point of intolerable tedium. But here’s the rub: I don’t think there’s a better way to keep in contact with my children. This is the way they communicate, and since relationship with them is a top priority, I think I may need to learn to work the system. But I bristle. I resist.

Meanwhile, I stand slack jawed with wonder at how the Great One spent several thousand years communicating with the apple of His eye, the Jewish people, through creation and the prophets and the law. Then finally, He did the unthinkable. He humbled Himself, and the Spinner of the cosmos restricted Himself to a human body, and did Christmas. Then, with a passion for you and I that can only be faintly comprehended, He took all our darkness upon Himself through a brutal death, and demonstrated His love in living color. That, folks is true communication. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” He texted us in a way we could grasp. He breathed our air, and walked on our dirt, and ate our food, and got viruses, and hurt feelings and a troubled soul. And for me, today, exactly 7 months after a devastating event that rocked my world, I can read that love in my own language. The sufferings of the Son of God purchased hope for us in this broken, fallen world. And His grace produces beauty and joy in the most remarkable places. Like hospital rooms. And courtrooms. And even cemeteries.

This pilgrim road continues to take my breath away. There are no words to adequately communicate the impact of a disaster on my life. Really, there is no way to paint a picture with the limitation of words, of the great gain that has come and continues to come from what looked like a complete catastrophe. But what the dark one meant for evil, God meant for good. And believe it or not, friends, I’m beginning to see it. At the 7 month mark, while recovery is ongoing, I can actually look back with a bit of cheer. Sorrow walks alongside the tentative steps of understanding, but there is some perspective here now. You all have helped me get there. There’s no walking this road alone.

Stitches removed tomorrow on Frankenfoot. Miss Rejoice sang in a concert tonite, but didn't want me to post her picture. She sings all the time. My boys are doing well, with some fun stuff coming up for them soon. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.

YFOTPR,

Loriann