I sat in that auditorium 1 year ago this weekend, bittersweet tears falling from my eyes as I fully realized that in just a few short weeks, we were leaving. Pulling up stakes on the Marine Corps traveling road show and unexpectedly starting over yet again. This day, these hours, precious laughter and tear stained moments, would be my girls last recital with the dance family we claimed as our own. Wistfully, Corry and I sobbed while Maura and Casey graced the stage together for the last time before Maura headed off to Meredith. My heart filled and then broke as Sydney floated across the stage to Cinderella to honor her dad, Jay. And finally my heart just crashed when Jessica danced a heartfelt farewell to her dance sisters who would soon go off into the world to find their way.
Every moment of that precious day, we spent in that auditorium, from early morning to late in the evening, touching up lipstick, adjusting costumes, chasing down little people and pinning up buns. Mercy popped up and disappeared, flitting from big girl to big girl, cartwheeling with Kaylan and conning Samantha out of her lunch. Hugging Nana Cathy and chattering away at Papa Freddie. Plopping herself down squarely on Kevin and convincing him to let her video, photograph and just generally do whatever she wanted. (He always was a sucker for that little bean-loved her from the moment he set eyes on her the week after Charles deployed.) Insisting on using the last itty bitty byte of space on my phone to video Abbie in her very first recital. Hugging and mugging for one last dance picture for our Halls Creek crew.
For some reason I couldn’t quite pin down, I felt compelled to watch her dance. To not take a single picture or even attempt a video. I set the stupid camera down and just sat there in that front row next to Corry and stared, captivated by the precious happiness that radiated from her graceful little soul.
I just wanted to see the joy on her sweet face when she flitted across that stage, when she tried to take charge of any of the tinier dancers who couldn’t quite keep up, when she realized Mommy was watching and so proud of her hard work!
And her brothers & Charley-they were remarkably patient, sitting through not one, not two, but THREE recitals for their sisters. (Mind you, there may or may not have been some electronics and a Dairy Queen bribe involved, but they were AWESOME.)
And I never dreamed, not even with the unease that been settled in my spirit for the previous few months, never once did I dream that this would be the very last time I would watch my daughter dance on a stage.
And I didn’t even take a picture. Or if I did, I simply don’t know. Because I just can’t bring myself to upload that last memory card. Of the last 2 months of the life I’ll never know again. Of the life I just never believed was truly mine.
I could never really wrap my brain around the fact that I could be that blessed. We had a beautiful home, 5 healthy kids, my husband was finally reaching a career goal that he had strived long and hard for-
Maybe I knew that the other stupid shoe just had to drop.
And drop it did.
We visited the Pentagon last year on Eva’s birthday. It was the first time I had set foot in it since before 9/11. Once upon a time, it’s hallowed halls had been familiar to me, as I had been honored to serve there as a tour guide while I was on active duty in the Marine Corps. A beloved childhood friend, who is now a Colonel in the Air Force (yup, I’m really that grown up,) took us on an impromptu tour. As we crossed from one of the inner rings to the outer one that houses the memorial chapel for 9/11 victims, Jimmy pointed out the burn marks that still scar the building from the impact of the plane and the subsequent explosion.
Simply put-that’s pretty much what every day life is like for us. Not just for me, but for Charles, for Eva and Charley and Max. The plane has crashed and burned-the fire is out, the damage has been assessed. And when it’s all said and done, the burn marks remain, scorched and blackened scars that will fade with time but will always and forever carry the shadow of the massive implosion of a once light-hearted family. Constant, painful reminders of what is lost and won’t be regained until we pass from this temporary, broken home into blessed eternity. Whispers of a lonely little Max who finds tragic joy in strangers thinking his sweet pal LG is his twin…
A precious friend asked me today if I ever had a good day, or even just a good hour.
I honestly didn’t know how to answer her.
Because I don’t know.
Do I laugh?
I do.
Will you see a smile on my face?
Fairly often, I’d say.
Do the hugs of my children and the sound of their laughter bring me unspeakable joy?
Without a doubt.
Do I enjoy a good meal and find delight in the company of true friends and treasured family?
Indeed.
Do I love my husband today more than I ever thought I could love another human being?
Unquestionably.
Do I spend time doing ordinary, every day tasks that once upon a time seemed so mundane and for which I’d give my left arm to be doing for ALL of my children?
Certainly.
Do I thank my God every day and beg him for mercy to get through this life, living His will, not mine?
I do my absolute, humanly flawed best.
Yet I find that now, every one of those things is colored with a lens that, no matter how much I polish it, how hard I try to clean it or how much I adjust it, it just can’t be clean or clear or unblemished.
I find myself haunted by the visions of what might have been, what should have and what will never be. I watch my daughter dance and realize that-
we. were. NOT. supposed. to. be. here.
Still, here we are.
Precious memories were shared with friends and family today, tears mingled with joy as I watched Eva grace the stage once again. Hugs from so many- tender touches, kind words, special memories shared. As Heather and I watched Eva, I thanked God for this cherished woman who was not only Mercy’s very first teacher, but who has ceaselessly given my Eva the gift of both her time and her love to honor Mercy and Sam. Seeing our true brother in Christ, Brian, race around, dividing his precious time photographing not just his beloved girls, but my Eva. And finally, when Miss Christy wrapped me in her arms and let me just breathe and cry, I was completely convicted that I was just where I was supposed to be at just that time. And for one simple extraordinary moment, I envisioned what it would have been like to see Mercy finesse the stage on pointe with the inate elegance of her enchanted, dancing soul.
I’ll see you again someday, my precious and tiny dancer. I’ll hold you in my arms once again and hear your beloved voice whisper-“mama, watch me!” And because it will be Heaven, I can sit with Sammy’s soft hand wrapped in mine, all the while watching you dance your heart out for your beloved Savior- The One whose spirit lived in you from the moment you were conceived, Whose love you shared with all who crossed your path and Whose life consummately sacrificed gave you yours forever.
Yes, my sweet friend. I do have joy-
He is bringing beauty from ashes and will restore what the locusts have eaten. And the prowling lion will never have my family, for we belong not to this world, but to the heart and soul of Christ, from whom all blessings flow.
Keep dancing, Mercy, keep dancing in my heart and in my soul. I love you, baby girl.