Swimming in the rain.

The new normal. That is what we are aiming for. We are putting one foot in front of the other. We look back over our shoulder. Then move forward.

I swam my 20 laps in a soft rain this morning. That is what it felt like over the last five days. Swimming. Through the rain of tears. Through the love rained down on us. Through the rain of prayers. Through the rain of the abundance of food that was provided to us. Through the rain of emotions. Through the rain of kind words. And then we emerge from the pool. Different. Sad but refreshed. Seeing life as sweeter. Softer. Even more precious.

Watching Father-in-law pass from this life were precious, holy moments. As were the moments of our children's arrivals. Holy, precious hugs given and received. Holy communion as we listened to grandsons give thanks to God for the gift of this life and the food that we shared. Holy and precious as we were warmed by the outpouring of the mere presence of friends and family. Some who traveled great distances to be with us. Preachers who said the exact right thing, holy moments. The funeral director who, on bent knee with big tears rolling down his cheeks, presented Macho the folded American flag for his father's service in the Navy. Precious and holy.

There were many moments that caught my eye as so sweet over the weekend. A few times I had the presence of mind to grab my phone and snap a photo. Like this one. Grandfather and grandson. 

Then I looked out my kitchen window and saw this. Brother cutting brother's hair. And then having the favor returned. 

Sweet, sweet Lauren sharing her game with Millie. 

Tuesday we didn't know quite what to do with ourselves. So we just relaxed and enjoyed being together. We plugged in the Disney movie Tangled and for a few minutes all the grandchildren were still and occupied. 

A rare picture of Macho presiding over the grandchildren at the foot of the table. 

***

Then, in the blink of an eye, our children were gone. Back to their homes. Their new normal. And our world got quiet. And life? It went on. We are still carrying our crosses of sadness. We are using gentle words and tones of voice. 

Last night I prepared a small meal. I held Macho's hand and said, "Let's fall in love again!" He said, "Did we fall out?" I replied, "No. But isn't it fun falling?!" 

Peace, and love, and happy Wednesday to you.