My life is filled with many firsts.
My first time driving (thanks, Dad!).
My first job.
My first crush.
My first love.
Now, I share many firsts with my first love. Together, we make it through the hard times as well as the good times.
Our first baby girl, now in heaven.
Our first Christmas.
Our first son.
Our first experience with empty arms and an empty crib.
Our first time holding Henry.
Henry's first bath.
Henry's first Christmas.
And now, for the first time, Henry is sick. It's the first time I have cared for a sick baby since Avery was so ill. It's scary. But I know how to get through it.
One step at a time.
I can only think about the next step. Two steps ahead is too much.
I only have the strength to go one step at a time.
But God is good. He gives strength as needed.
He never fails.
He won't let me down.
I know, because I have taken that first step.
I had a lot of firsts last year. Many I didn't like at all. But some good ones as well!
ReplyDeletePraying for Henry! Tell him I love him.
~ Jemmie
You are so present in life, Audra. I love your blog, your life, your spirit... I am reminded of part of one of my favorite poems...this isn't the whole thing...
ReplyDeleteThe Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.
It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.