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Finding Rhythm and New Life


Life lately has been busy amidst the many things clamoring for my attention.

I am trying to keep up.

Death and life.

Light and dark.

Winter and spring.

Old and new.

Finding a new rhythm.

It’s like pruning the dead vines and weeding the winter terrain as the emerging first flowers turn their faces toward the sun.

Aside from the moments when intense grief strikes with a mind of its own, I spending time searching for joy, hope, and a new rhythm in this anointed life.

Blue skies, vivid daffodils, and grass evolving into the color of life keep me going as the sun’s warm rays descend like love on my face.

I won’t stop turning my face toward the glow of the slightest ray of light—it’s life-sustaining.

There have been other things, too, that are bringing me life and gluing back together the pieces of my broken heart, like celebrating a sweet 16th birthday, waiting for too long at the DMV as my littlest lady aced her permit test, and teaching her (and myself) to let go of the white-knuckle grip on the wheel while spending endless hours pontificating over meaningful matters with several young adults “spring breaking” at our house for the week.

These kids and the beauty I continue to find surrounding my day are the breath of fresh spring air infused with the essence and fragrance of new life.

I am committed to finding the truth, beauty, and good in things, even though the jagged edges of loss and grief won’t let me forget.

I am continually finding that there is a bounty of grace when we are open to receive the gifts that will bloom from seeds God drops along our rocky path. We reap what we sow in the fertile soil He provides.

I am reminded in conversations with fellow grieving widows who have walked the unfortunate path a bit longer than me that our lives will never look the same.

Although the rhythm will always be different, there is still beauty in the new.

The wind chime, marked in Jon’s memory, often rings when there is no trace of wind; it has become the new cadence of my day.

He is everywhere and nowhere; the stories of our lives are music to my ears.

“I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils; beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”

William Wordsworth

When the pain, longing, loneliness, and isolation rend my heart, I look and listen for the beauty, life reborn, and signs of a veil lifted or torn in the midst.

It’s in the daffodils emerging from the winter’s soil, the roses budding on trailing vines, the Blue Herons landing near, in celebrating the many milestones for my kids, and the ways heaven sends us signs.

The tease of winter’s end as spring finds its place is the promise of new life.

Lent shifts to Easter.

Both are signs of hope and life reborn.

Stormy days will still come and go. The eroded soil where a vibrant bounty of vegetables once thrived will soon bloom with beautiful flowers in memory of a different life—the beginning of a new rhythm.

We will continue to plant seeds and tend to the life we have been given.

We will grow.

We can’t waste it.

We can treasure it and cherish its beauty as we sow new seeds, navigate the changing seasons, and find fertile soil to grow new roots.

We can only tend to it, grow with it, and learn from a place where life pervades.

We can surround ourselves with life-giving things as we endure, grow, and live with any slight discomfort in discovering what is meant for us and what needs to be weeded and pruned.

When the soil is parched or sunlight eludes, we can ask God to quench our thirst and send sunshine to drench the earth and our hearts. We cannot take another bleak, dark moment. Even in the dark, that cold winter soil begins to thaw, and the warmth and light of hope bloom again.

And sometimes what is most life-giving and filled with hope is when you take your youngest baby girl to take a permit test even as your heart aches for her in that moment because her dad isn’t there to cheer her on like the other kids got to experience.

But we know and trust with every fiber of our being he is there.

Then, the veil is torn.

Then, by the grace of God, we are sent signs from above as we discover the guy who completes the paperwork at the DMV just so happens to have the name of the guy you miss most in this world. Thanks, Jonfor always showing us how close you are.

As I am finding a new rhythm, I encounter Jon in the midst. That gives me hope.

“Where flowers bloom, so does hope.”

Lady Bird Johnson

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  1. You dear Heather are a gift from God.

    Even though you probably know this, I felt compelled to look up what your name means. Heather, means a flowering EVERgreen plant. A resilient flower symbolizing strength and overcoming challenges. It goes on ” heather refers to a color that includes pale blue, pink, purple and gray.
    Wow, it’s no wonder, you are so beautiful inside and out. From your conception, to the name your parents gave you, Our Lord had a special plan for your life. You dear friend are one of the few people I know who lives life with authenticity and honesty.

    I once received a card which said ” What you are is your gift from God, What you make of yourself is your gift TO God. You, dear Heather LoBano, surely make Our Lord and Savior smile every day as you embrace your gifts and share them with your heart wide open.

    Real love, authentic love is messy because it involves sacrifice and suffering amidst the times of celebration and serenity. The inspiration of your faith embraces both and never stops looking UP with hope despite the times of desolation.

    Thank you for allowing me to share in your suffering and celebrations through your life-giving Newsletters.

    1. Thank you Sharon for always sharing such encouragement!!!
      I truly appreciate it and your love & friendship!

      I love what you shared about my name. My mom used to tell me often about the flowering Heather ♥️💗🪻

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