Saturday, March 24, 2012

one year

March 24th, 2011

We were up late talking.  Dear friends were in town.
My phone rang.  Clint handed it to me.  Told me I should probably answer.  It was my parents.  It was early in the morning for them across the world.  They shouldn't have been calling.
I answered.  Wondering.
Then the unexpected.  There was a fall, an accident.  Pregnant Kari at the hospital.
The next hours of waiting were a blur.
Talked with Brooke, waiting at the hospital.
Talked with Joni, on her way to LA.
Talked with Regina, waiting with the kids of parents at the hospital.
All of us longing to know that everything was okay.

And then we heard.  Margot didn't make it.  Kari was just holding on.
A week of phone calls.
A week of being in LA, hoping and praying that Kari would recover.  Grieving Margot together.

And Josh and Kari have a journey all their own.  One I can't imagine and one that I would never dream for them.

For us there have been numerous conversations of death this year.  Processing it together, processing it with Evee.  

Last week we told friends about our still coming shipment from the states.  I mentioned the rocking chair that I'm waiting on.  The one that "my mom rocked my sister in and then redid for me when I had Evee.  And who knows, maybe Evee will rock her own kids in it one day."

From beside me, I get a little nudge and a soft "Mom, we don't know if I'll have kids...maybe if I haven't died yet."  Wow.

Following up with that statement later, our 4 year old explains to me that Margot died and we just don't know when we will die.

Words are not sufficient.  Just a brief glimpse of what is on our hearts daily.  We remember.  We grieve.  And I am reminded that life is short and life is precious.  And we trust in Hope.


  1. My goodness I am bawling my eyes out. I just read through your friends posts. He writes beautifully. I am overwhelmed by their strength

  2. Can't believe it's been already and only been a year, praying for your family today. Love you, friend.

  3. God is. My spirit is so grieved. I feel like I might have seen barely the tip of the iceberg from the furtherest distance with how much it hurts my spirit to catch a glimpse of how a father hurts. His words, especially in his post on March 13, 2012, make my soul cry out.

    Your last paragraph sums it up.

    With love. Prayers for you and the family of the lost daughter.