life moves on

Only recently have I grown to love the Easter season- and I can say that wholeheartedly. For the longest time it was just one of ‘those holidays’- you know the ones. The ones that you kind of get excited about for about a week at most and then it comes and happens and then it’s over and you’re kind of underwhelmed and (dare I say) disappointed.

‘Those holidays’.

Light conquering darkness; death overcome by life. I never really needed Easter until I experience these things for myself. I never could comprehend what it meant until my own world fell apart.


Two years ago, my whole world seemed to shatter faster than I thought possible. At 14 weeks the baby we anticipated ended up not being a baby at all- rather a tumor growing inside of me, sneakily destroying my body and crushing our hopes.

Easter, 2017 - my first surgery, my first real heartbreak, my first real doubt of faith. 

‘It’ would have been one and a half this Easter, 18 months of precious, chunky, baby-faced goodness. Irreplaceable. 

Maybe those of you who have known me in this time are tired of me talking about this year after year. Maybe you’re thinking there are people who go through worse pains, longer heartaches, and tougher trials. Maybe you don’t get why I insist on talking about this death once again when life moves on. And it does move on - thank goodness it does. 

I insist on sharing because what hope is light unless it has overcome the dark? What joy is to be found in the blooms of spring if you never saw the dead, crinkled trees of winter? 

Easter, for the first time ever two years ago, had new personal meaning. There was actually a reason for spring, a reason to hope, a reason to believe in new starts and new things. It’s been a journey, every year a little brighter, every year a little more hopeful. What is hope if you have nothing to be hopeful for?

I love Spring - and everything it embodies more now than ever - because I need the hope. I need the light. I need some fresh air and warmth on my face so when the days get hard (as they do) I have something to remember, a new hope to cling too. When I miss what we would have been, when I miss baby coos and the smell of their newborn hair; when I miss this person I would have known, when I wonder who they were or what they may have been… I remember these days are bright and beautiful right now. Hope, on the horizon. Hope, reaching out to meet me. 

I don’t know your story - do you relate? Maybe it’s something else that broke your spirit and made you mourn. Maybe a loss of a family member or friend? Maybe when you were fired from the job that gave you life, maybe when someone abandoned you and you didn’t know why. Regardless of our pain, the earth teaches us that there is newness just waiting for us - a new day, a new hope, a new story on the horizon. 

The tree, that loses its glamours fall leaves to be bare and dark for months, will finally rekindle little white buds of the green to come. 

The bird that migrate south will finally make the long, exhausting journey north, back to their homes, back to their belonging.

The grass turns brown and rough, defenseless against the snow and ice… it will turn green and soft again. 

If nature, year after year, can be brought into despair, into preservation, and then back out of it again.. so can I.