Thursday, March 24, 2011


It's been one of those weeks.
Everywhere I turn, there's talk about home.
There's talk about roots.
There's talk about family.

There are innocent assumptions.
"Do your parents live nearby?"
"No, my parents died."

There is silence.
Silence that screams, "WE DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY!"
Conversations politely change. Discomfort is quickly averted. 
The unintended message is this: "You do not fit in. You are different. You do not belong."

It is a

Holding back the tears takes years of practice.
Twenty years.
Still, sometimes tears spill.
It's just not what most people want to hear or see.
Trust me.
But don't pity me.


My Father hears.

My Father sees.

He holds back the tears 
that fill up my soul
until I can pour them out
on His feet.

And there at His feet,

I am loved.

I belong.

I am home.

"A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling."  Psalm 68:5


  1. This is beautiful and true and it makes my heart heavy for you. I'm sorry for your loss. My Dad is dealing with a crippling disease and it's so hard to watch and I get worried about the day when he's no longer around...and yet I know that when that day comes, he'll RUN.

    I'm not trying to compare my situation to yours, but I feel a small sliver of common ground.

    Love to you, tonight. Your family is beautiful.

  2. Kristi,
    What a beautiful, tender beginning to your blog. I smile when I imagine what Mom's reaction would be.

    As always, I am blessed to be your big sister and I am excited as you and your family begin this new journey.

    One question, do I need to worry about more old photos showing up here?


  3. I just read this and thought of you. Had to share. :)

  4. Beautiful post and a lovely family picture. Looking forward to reading more! love you lots,

  5. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

  6. (I did that ^ but it was my comment. whoops!)
    But more importantly:
    I LOVE YOU, MOMMY! ♥♥♥

    Hanna (on your account)

  7. From Sue:

    Hi Kristi!

    Your blog is very sweet. I like the poem a lot. And I love that picture of our family.

    The day we had that picture taken we stood in line in the old Grange building for what seemed like hours and hours, sweating in the heat, waiting our turn for a family portrait. Poor Mom. I know how little my family cares for having their picture taken. I bet we were all groaning. But you don't see that on anyone's face, do you? That photographer must have known how to make his subjects smile. And maybe we loved Mom enough to do our best. I was Natalie's age then…and my baby sister must have been 2.

    Love you!