These past few days I've been floating around, kind of focused, kind of unfocused.
Our world was incredibly shaken last Friday, and I still believe we will never be the same. In my moments of sem-normalcy, I've listened to Christmas music. I've baked. I've shopped and went to church.
In my moments of grief, I've prayed.
I've cried.
I've stared off into space thinking about nothing.
Early this morning, I turned off my alarm. I want to believe it was an accident, because in my foggy memory I didn't turn it off, I turned the knob to radio. I just didn't want to wake to the blaring beeping noise.
It's an awful, jolt-me-out-dreamland way to start the day.
I woke up an hour after the middle school bus pulled away. The house was still quiet, the kids were still dreaming. Maybe, just maybe I turned off the alarm to keep my babies with me a little longer this morning, sleeping and resting. Maybe I felt, somewhere in my unconsciousness, that we needed to rest.
I know we did.
Tonight I've been looking through photos on my hard drive, because months go by and I realize nothing has been uploaded and made into prints. This is me constantly, always catching up on my photo albums. Just now, I found this picture.
I love the innocence, and the excitement. I love the joy on my daughter's face and the cupcakes my babies made for Santa.
There is such beauty in the world. Even in the wake of all this horror, there is beauty all around us. A week ago I would have looked at this picture, loved it, and uploaded. Tonight, I look at this picture and I see the jammies, and the cupcakes. I see the twinkle in my daughter's eyes.
I'm awake. I'm present. I'm looking for the details and the beauty.
I remind everyone to pray. Continue to pray hard. The families directly affected by this tragedy will need those prayers long after the news coverage disappears.
And drink in all the wonders and the love all around you. Usually, everything you need is right under your nose. Grab hold of it, love it and don't let it go.
Make today wonderful.
Our world was incredibly shaken last Friday, and I still believe we will never be the same. In my moments of sem-normalcy, I've listened to Christmas music. I've baked. I've shopped and went to church.
In my moments of grief, I've prayed.
I've cried.
I've stared off into space thinking about nothing.
Early this morning, I turned off my alarm. I want to believe it was an accident, because in my foggy memory I didn't turn it off, I turned the knob to radio. I just didn't want to wake to the blaring beeping noise.
It's an awful, jolt-me-out-dreamland way to start the day.
I woke up an hour after the middle school bus pulled away. The house was still quiet, the kids were still dreaming. Maybe, just maybe I turned off the alarm to keep my babies with me a little longer this morning, sleeping and resting. Maybe I felt, somewhere in my unconsciousness, that we needed to rest.
I know we did.
Tonight I've been looking through photos on my hard drive, because months go by and I realize nothing has been uploaded and made into prints. This is me constantly, always catching up on my photo albums. Just now, I found this picture.
I love the innocence, and the excitement. I love the joy on my daughter's face and the cupcakes my babies made for Santa.
There is such beauty in the world. Even in the wake of all this horror, there is beauty all around us. A week ago I would have looked at this picture, loved it, and uploaded. Tonight, I look at this picture and I see the jammies, and the cupcakes. I see the twinkle in my daughter's eyes.
I'm awake. I'm present. I'm looking for the details and the beauty.
I remind everyone to pray. Continue to pray hard. The families directly affected by this tragedy will need those prayers long after the news coverage disappears.
And drink in all the wonders and the love all around you. Usually, everything you need is right under your nose. Grab hold of it, love it and don't let it go.
Make today wonderful.
Our world was incredibly shaken last Friday, and I still believe we will never be the same. In my moments of sem-normalcy, I've listened to Christmas music. I've baked. I've shopped and went to church.
In my moments of grief, I've prayed.
I've cried.
I've stared off into space thinking about nothing.
Early this morning, I turned off my alarm. I want to believe it was an accident, because in my foggy memory I didn't turn it off, I turned the knob to radio. I just didn't want to wake to the blaring beeping noise.
It's an awful, jolt-me-out-dreamland way to start the day.
I woke up an hour after the middle school bus pulled away. The house was still quiet, the kids were still dreaming. Maybe, just maybe I turned off the alarm to keep my babies with me a little longer this morning, sleeping and resting. Maybe I felt, somewhere in my unconsciousness, that we needed to rest.
I know we did.
Tonight I've been looking through photos on my hard drive, because months go by and I realize nothing has been uploaded and made into prints. This is me constantly, always catching up on my photo albums. Just now, I found this picture.
I love the innocence, and the excitement. I love the joy on my daughter's face and the cupcakes my babies made for Santa.
There is such beauty in the world. Even in the wake of all this horror, there is beauty all around us. A week ago I would have looked at this picture, loved it, and uploaded. Tonight, I look at this picture and I see the jammies, and the cupcakes. I see the twinkle in my daughter's eyes.
I'm awake. I'm present. I'm looking for the details and the beauty.
I remind everyone to pray. Continue to pray hard. The families directly affected by this tragedy will need those prayers long after the news coverage disappears.
And drink in all the wonders and the love all around you. Usually, everything you need is right under your nose. Grab hold of it, love it and don't let it go.
Make today wonderful.
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