Dan left his mark on hearts and trees

We are home; and life just marches on.

The hollyhocks are in full bloom and more beautiful than I have ever seen them--life goes on.

The weeds have taken full advantage of my absence—life goes on.

We witnessed a beautiful wedding this weekend, we shared laughter with those who wept with us--life goes on.

We shared joy in the announcement of a new baby on the way--life goes on.

Mike went back to work today--life must go on.

Hannah is planning her wedding in the garden--life must go on.

And still, life will never be the same. It will never be normal. Because normal is Danny begging to make a pot of coffee for “me” at two in the afternoon. Normal is Danny sneaking out to the barn or behind a door to scare some poor unsuspecting soul. Normal, is Danny and Emily bickering in the kitchen over who should wash the dishes.

Life goes on—but it can’t be normal, it has changed.

It is as though my life has exploded into thousands of little pieces. Daily I strive to carefully pick up another piece. What I am finding is that each piece is part of a puzzle. And I have to ask God where each piece fits.

To my surprise, the picture of my life that the pieces are forming is a much different picture than the one I knew before.

I’m okay with that. Only because I believe it will be more beautiful—He is the giver of life, and life must go on. Like the tree in Tennessee that bears his name, his imprint will be forever engraved on our hearts-- and life goes on.