July.

Have you ever had a premonition or sense of foreboding about something yet to come?

The summer of 2019 was one of the sweetest my family has ever had. Our kids were five and two years old, and we made so many good memories together that year.

That July, we went camping in Vermont with friends and family like we did every year; it was a wonderful week away together. On one of our last nights in Vermont, I remember walking back to our camp by myself. The sky was crystal clear and glittering with stars. I looked up at the stars as I walked and clearly remember sensing that something was about to change. I felt in my bones that I needed to soak that moment up to carry with me into harder days.

Of course I couldn’t imagine 2020.

I couldn’t imagine the seismic shift about to take place in our friendships and community.

I didn’t know how hard motherhood would soon become.

I didn’t realize all our plans, and goals, and dreams could turn to ash in our hands.

All of these years later, when I see pictures of the months leading up to the autumn of 2019, I grieve.

I grieve for what was. I wish I could step back in time to the people we were before the world fell out from under our feet. What I wouldn’t give to go back to the days when our babies were two and five years old and everything was going to be okay.

Life for all the years since then has been trying to rebuild what collapsed. Two churches, three different schools for our kids, and three moves trying to finally land in one place.

When you’re walking through a difficult season, it’s hard to imagine that life can ever look hopeful again on the other side.

But this summer, I finally found my way out to the other side. Life isn’t perfect or easy — but it has been restful, and refreshing, and good.

Where last summer was one of the most stressful and depleting of my life, this summer has been still waters and green pastures.

And like that summer years ago under the Vermont sky, I know this restful season won’t last forever. This is a time to fill my bucket and settle my heart for whatever lies ahead.

I couldn’t imagine how life was about to change after the summer of 2019. Nor do I know what life will look like a year from now, or even tomorrow.

But I do know something this time around. I know when hard times come, you find out what exactly can crumble, what can be lost and taken away. But you also find out what remains — who you can hold onto (who holds onto you) when everyone and everything else is lost.

It has taken me a few extra days to gather my thoughts for this post. July is the month we remember and celebrate so many things — our 16th year of marriage, both of our children’s birthdays (and this our 10th year of parenting). It was a year ago in July that we moved onto our land here in Connecticut. I spent July reflecting and rejoicing in these and so many things.

And though we can’t go back in time, though our hearts are sometimes broken along the way, I’m thankful for a God who only ever loves in the things he gives and takes away. I’m thankful for green pastures and still waters — and a Good Shepherd who will lead me all the way.