kristi lynn studio

If there ever was a day that could be the exact definition of the word bittersweet, this is that day.

Sweet because 19 years ago today my dreams came true when I gave birth to one of my life’s greatest gifts and joys, a baby girl.

Bitter because I had to bury my Mom and Dad on the day that I turned 19.

So today while I see my 19 year old baby girl flourishing in her first year of college, dreaming big dreams, and taking big steps on the path God has prepared for her, I also remember me at 19, living through the hardest days of my life as everything about who I was and who I thought I would be unraveled in the blink of an eye.

It’s true that the consequence of tragedy never ends. I knew this chapter of parenthood would be hard for me to navigate and it is. I took preventative measures and started counseling long before the waves of this new season would start crashing. I’m so glad I did. I feel prepared and equipped to handle days like today. But that doesn’t keep the tears away, and maybe that’s not the point.

I’m grieving. Of course I am. And I must.

But that grief in no way negates from my gratefulness. I cry tears of sadness, yes I do, but deeper still is a sense of wonder and gratitude for all that God has provided for me, His daughter. I was orphaned, but never alone. He held me then and holds me now. I look at my life today and stand in awe of a life He planned, prepared, and provided for me. I see how He built up a new life from scratch, one I surely didn’t plan and didn’t see coming. It’s been hard. I wouldn’t have chosen “hard” for myself, but I’m grateful He chose it for me. I can’t help but believe that the hard has actually made everything that is good in my life even better. My heart and soul have grown larger through suffering, making room to experience greater joy, strength, peace, and love.

So while I still wrestle with all the “what’s” and the “why’s” that come alongside me on days like today, I am deeply and profoundly grateful that I get to be TO BE HERE FOR MY GIRL on her 19^th birthday. This is no ordinary birthday. This is a beautiful second chance. The roles are different, but the love is the same. I get to BE the Mom I didn’t have, and it’s a precious, precious privilege that I do not take for granted. I get to love my kids, celebrate them, support them, encourage them, help them, and Lord willing, continue to watch them become the beautiful adults that I know they will be.

But IF I can’t, if God were to suddenly and unexpectedly call me home, I know firsthand that they are always in good hands–God’s hands.

He’s the one thing they can never lose and the only thing they’ll ever need.

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Our moving story starts with moves to two different houses in Grand Rapids and then our big move to Fremont 14 years ago. We left Grand Rapids gladly, wanting a small town lifestyle for our family. It was a scary and brave thing to do at the time, considering we had no family or jobs here, just a dream and my roots. We decided to buy a house in town, not the country, hoping it would help us get to know the people and places in this small town. We were right. It didn’t take long and we found wonderful friends and neighbors here. But it also didn’t take long for us to start dreaming of the country.

Year after year went by and the vision stayed the same: a few acres just outside of town with room for an art studio, gardens, and a barn for a little hobby farm. Dreamy, right? We pursued several opportunities and even put our house on the market twice, but nothing was working out. Though it was discouraging, we never gave up believing we would make the move someday.

Then I found it: a big old four square farmhouse, close to town, with fields and woods on 18 acres, and a beautiful red barn. We toured it and walked the property several times as I imagined barn parties, a barn studio, barn sales, and barn cats. We loved it completely. It was everything and more. After some time of prayer and thinking we decided that we would go for it. Sadly, the day we called the realtor to make an offer, we learned that another offer had been accepted and the house was sold.

We felt compelled to at least keep trying for that country living life. It would be our one last leap of faith towards the dream. But after many months, the stress of having our house for sale by owner and not knowing where we might move or when became too much weight. It was a source of tension for both of us. We were no longer on the same page with the same vision. Out of frustration, disappointment, and anger, I stomped out of the house one day when everyone was gone and took down the house for sale sign.  It brought my man relief to come home from work and see the sign gone. It brought me into a pit.

Please understand that this came on the heels of several other heavy hitting disappointments. It was part of a bigger picture. I was still reeling from a failed adoption. Our years of homeschooling were clearly coming to an end. Now another hope was crumbling and my heart was breaking right along with it. Mostly, I felt completely baffled at what I was supposed to be doing with my life if the things I had built my hopes on for so long were not meant to be. I truly believed that these hopes were part of God’s plan for my life and when those doors closed, I was angry and confused.

I’m going to skip ahead and spare you the gory details of my journey through the valley of fear and doubt. But what you need to know is that in letting go of my plans (even if it was kicking and screaming), God was able to walk me though that darkness and into a whole new understanding of what really matters…not WHERE I live, but HOW I live. I learned a lot about myself and my faith and my misplaced hopes. It wasn’t easy, but I slowly let go of the too tight grip on my dreams and opened my heart and life to whatever God was up to. I didn’t know it at the time, but something new was on the horizon…something I had often prayed for and deep down longed for, but never truly dared to believe.

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