The Fire

May 27th, the 46th day without my love by my side.  I don't have a plan as I sit here and begin to write, but I pray the words that flow out of this entry will be real, accurately depicting the journey and real, accurately depicting God's faithfulness to us.  We must dive into the depth of the heartbreak to experience the magnitude of God's comfort. So many things have transpired in the last 3 weeks.  McCartney and I returned to Nicaragua.  My sister joined us on the return to soften the impact of our arrival here and to be here to pick up the pieces when we fell apart.  We (and when I say we, it's now a reference to me and McCartney because she is the other half of my duo, and I am the other half of hers) have not fallen apart, but things have not been what we expected either. At the airport on the morning of our departure, we walked up to our gate, the same gate where Jon, McCartney and I had sat only a few weeks prior.  My eyes welled up with tears a...

This week has been brutal.  For starters, I picked up Jon's ashes from the funeral home.  It was much harder than I anticipated.  I walked in alone and walked out with a blue velvet encased box containing the love of my life.  How is it that just a little more than three weeks ago I laid my head on his chest, he held me tight, kissed me on my forehead and made me feel safe.  Now, I lay on my bed alone, clutching a box of ashes to my chest, sobbing with all that is within me and begging God for mercy. As though that was not enough, the following days included chores and unpleasant phone calls.  All tasks seem meaningless, but each conversation including,  "Please accept our condolences....and we'll need a copy of the death certificate," is another knife to the gut.  It is very difficult to walk through the day drenched in sadness and still have the energy for anything else. Sunday was Jon's birthday, a "first" that came way too soon. Someti...