Her Children Rise Up

As I sat to pen this post, a bevy of emotions swirled through my heart and up to my throat, now heavy with a lump that sought to deny my ferocious attempt at fighting back tears.

Words to paper would not come.

I was bereft of any means by which to articulately describe the multi-faceted gift the Beland children were to me yesterday.  An attempt, ever so feeble, at conveying the depth and intensity of love I contained for their mother, my best friend, Angela Nanette, failed before I could even begin.

Suddenly, I realized that I surely must have some archived expression that chronicled our friendship, here at ChoiceCentral.  Yes!  That was it!  Allow my past words speak for me today.

Alas ~ in great dismay I found I've written only two direct references to her:  one light-hearted, the other, a curtain pulled back, while focused on the present.

Hm.

I considered this for some time.  How can this be?

My mind then trailed to the scrapbook project I created, many years after her passing.  Surely I had posted photos and memories here, in association with that!  No dice.   A mere mention of the fact.  

Hm.  Again.

I pondered further, my heart beating, as though it would jump out of my chest . . .

I had to accept the reality of the situation:  I haven't been able to express my thoughts - even after all these years - because my love still yet runs deep, and my grief at her passing intense.

Oh, sure.  I gloss over that place in my heart, and let it be.  I close the door for windows of time, and pretend the room doesn't exist.

But it does.  It's real, and it's there, and to open the door is to engage memories that consume me in love, laughter, fun . . . To open the door means I remember.

Often, remembering is too overwhelming.

If then, recollection is so intense, how can I even begin to pen the depths of the joy and delight I experienced at an afternoon spent, engaging the all-grown-up personnas of the four children that ran in and out of my door ~ our doors ~ years ago, with childhood abandon?

I see her in each of them.  Gentleness of speech, a sidewise smile, a gesture identical to hers.

Angela Nanette's greatest import in life was to love her children in such a way that they would surely become adults of stature, character and strength.

Her impression upon them is sure, unflinching, and true.

These young adults ~ all four of them ~ have of a surety risen up.  They are plants grown up in their youth, olive branches around the table.

They are the product of a Proverbs 31 woman, through and through.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed  Proverbs 31:28