Is that ok Nate?

I don't always cry for you. 

Is that ok Nate?

I don't always yell your name in the car when I'm alone. 

Is that ok Nate?

I don't always stay awake at night thinking about reading you books. 

Is that ok Nate?

I look around to see if Micah is getting in trouble and not you. 

Is that ok Nate?

I don't always visit your grave. 

Is that ok Nate?

I always rejoice at where you are. 

Is that ok Nate?

God sometimes grants my prayer for a dream of you. 

Is that ok Nate?

I don't always talk to Ani about you. 

Is that ok Nate?

I just answered the lady serving me that I'm doing fine when I'm not. 

Is that ok Nate?

Am I doing ok Nate?

Oh my baby Nate. I saw a little toddler girl today who had a cast on her arm. She was so cute. Then I remembered your leg and your cast and my smile went away. It just sucks to be without you. 

Not fair

As I look into my daughter's beautiful expressive eyes, it strikes me that her range of expression is so, so very limited. I know that she has beauty and poetry that's waiting to get out. That's just who she is. After I wad done practicing tonight it hit me that I am so blessed to have so many forms of expressin open to me, my engineering, my writing, my guitar, trombone, and newfound love of violin. It's not fair that a person whose basic characteristic was to be expressive (ask me about "song prayer" sometime) is now so limited. My heart bursts with the feeling that this world needs to hear what she has to say. That she can (and already has) make a difference for the better in this world. 

It's coming again

The day is almost upon us. Here we are, trying to decide whether to mark the day on the 25th, or on the Sunday. It will be 7 years, and I can still see Ani terrified. Still see Nate as I turned to him immediately before the tornado hit. Still feel my throat hurt as I yelled for Nate, for Ani to make a noise, for God to not take both my children. 

How strange

I just spent 10 minutes straight in prayer over......my violin. 

I am thankful that it was placed before me and how much I enjoy the comfort, calmness, enjoyment, enrichment (and even the frustration) it brings me. I even enjoy just how difficult it is to learn. This is the only thing in my life that I've had where I deeply WANT to practice and study, and push myself through the hard parts. When I play, I enjoy everything, even the exercises, and I try to make even those be as emotive and musical as I can. I see the interesting battle within me, between the complicated interplay of muscle tension vs relaxed states. The duality of me wanting to control it (and it refusing) and me wanting to let go and release what's inside me through it. When I'm playing, there's nothing else around me.

I prayed in thanks.

I prayed in marvel of this thing called music that was gifted to us in this world. 

I prayed in respect of this little wooden object that has so many aspects to it. 

I prayed in request to continue to learn and advance.  To be worthy of a new instrument and playing in an orchestra sometime in the future. 

I prayed in thanks for the amazing teacher I have that I just "picked at random". 

I prayed to be able to play vibrato someday. :)

Take this from me, please

Lord, please take from me the curse that I bear. The curse that the first thing that comes to mind when I bring Nate's memory to my heart is that of me yelling at him, and him crying. I think I've relived that enough times now. I'm so sorry about it. I've confessed to you, to Christy and even Ani. Please let it be replaced with his smile and adoration while we danced. My heart bleeds enough as it is, I don't need my own subconscious helping that. 

Love and trust

Ani fell asleep in my arms again tonight. She's too big to cradle, so I lie next to her. I look in her eyes and put my arm around her and talk to her and sing to her. I feel her tension leave her, and she feels warm and safe and loved. Her trust in me is shown in her smile as we are quiet. Her smile that fades as her breathing slows and her eyes close. Sublime moments that I wish would last forever, for as she falls asleep, all my worries and fears are put on hold, and I can fully enjoy the company of my child.