I held her frail hands in mine; my reward after a 4–hour drive. The same hands that embraced and nourished and loved me from the start now clench blankets and every precious moment.
We gathered, not for tears or to share our fear about this life about to take flight, but to support and comfort her and one other. In the noise and conversation we find strength in our numbers that somehow smoothes over the unknown until the quiet seeps back in.
Family. Those who share my blood and my past talk and recall and we laugh through tears over coffee and hugs.
We talked about the stepping stones well into the night; the memories, those times well hidden and tucked away behind the years reaching, waiting to grab you by the heart to be re-lived and enjoyed.
These are the stepping stones; brief moments in life captured in the midst of time that strengthen you to move forward to the next season and the next and the next. How precious are the memories that bind people by the heart.
Thank you, Lord for the stepping stones.
"Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes
in me will live, even though he dies; 26and whoever lives and believes
in me will never die. Do you believe this?"
(John 11:25-26) NIV