Be. For. Real.: a time to heal.

“There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

A time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.”
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

There’s a time for everything… to be born. To die. To weep. To laugh. To mourn. To dance. To heal.

It’s hard not to remember this day, 14 years ago. Some parts of are still fuzzy. Some parts are more crystal clear than I wish they were. I can remember what I was wearing. I can remember that it was cold. I can remember it was late. I was coaching basketball at the time and we had an away game at Webster County. I pulled into the driveway, on the phone with my boyfriend, and realized that it was way too late for my dad’s truck not to be in the driveway. I told him I would call him back, my gut already telling me that something wasn’t right. I walked into the house and to my mom’s bedroom where she was laying in her bed, reading a book, alone. I asked where dad was, and all she said was “he left.”

No one had to tell me. I already knew why he left. I already even knew who he left for. But that was one of the longest nights of my life. I got back in my car and drove up the road to my best friends’ house. It was midnight. I knocked. They let me in, and I sat on the bed in between their parents and cried. I drove back home and my mom explained more. Some bits and pieces of our conversation I can still hear her say. Some things are fuzzy.

But one thing is certain- that night is forever etched onto my heart’s memory and December 13, 2004 is a night that I would love to forget but that I’ll always remember.

But there’s a time for everything. To be born. To die. To weep. To laugh. To mourn. To dance. To heal.

And God, in all of His goodness, gave us something that we never knew we needed to heal our hearts of some their broken pieces. And He sent that gift to us wrapped up in a tiny little red haired baby girl. And He sent that gift to us on December 13^th….

December 13, 2006. Two years after our whole world fell to pieces all around us, God sent a bandaid. A bandaid to help us learn to laugh and dance and love bigger than we had loved before.