I can’t say enough how Julie's words in her journals have blessed me. Over the 12 years of our marriage, we occasionally read to each other entries from our journals. But only occasionally. Why read each other’s journals when we had each other in person?
Entries in 2006 reflected the life of our little son and ideas about our future home. It was a stage when we had just purchased a property and were thinking and dreaming about home ownership. We planted grass and trees before anything was ever built. We began saving and looking for ways to finance our home. We had been married six years, four of those in Paraguay. We were excited about the future. God had given us a sweet little baby. Life was busy, dynamic, exciting.
In person, we could talk and share insights, struggles, and dreams. We met every morning for Paraguayan tea time. It was a ritual, a sacred date that we considered one of our daily highlights. Missing the 6am tea time was almost a transgression of a family tradition.
Today during my early tea time, I opened a journal from six years ago. Julie was sharing her struggles as a mother, wife, and daughter of the king.
A few months after Timmy’s birth, she wrote: "It’s my first Mother’s day ever. Thank you God for the privilege of being a mom. What a life change I have had in the last six months. Timmy has consumed so much of my time and energy but it is all worth it. Timmy is sitting up unassisted and soon, will be crawling. It is amazing to see his growth. Praise God for a healthy child." (May 14, 2006)
Four days later, she wrote: "We are putting up our fence on our new lot. It is so exciting. Thank you God that we are able to buy a lot and plant trees. On mother’s day we planted a Lapacho and a chivato. Timmy is more full of life each day. He is flexible, fairly easy going and not a cry baby." (May 18, 2006)
|Just planted grass and Lapacho national tree|
|The first bloom of our pata de buey tree, only three months after Julie planted it|
The next six years were incredible. We were able to see Timothy grow and go to preschool and first grade. We were able to move into the home that we'd both dreamed of. We got to host people from at least seven different countries. We got to see Timothy play in his own, blue-walled room. In a sense, God gave us the gift of seeing things happen and dreams come true.
Just reading these entries brought back a ton of wonderful memories. Thank you for the gift of good memories. Thank you that dreams do come true.
As I process my grief, deep inside I know that God will restore and that I will see a few more dreams come true. I am continuing to journal, even if my journal never sees the light of the day. It’s a blessing that I get to enjoy.
Norberto and Anahi