I have to write before the kids wake up. They are napping, the fire is crackling, and the wind is pushing their blue plastic swing and loosening the burnt orange leaves from the weary trees.

I woke up yesterday morning from a dream that simultaneously made me miss Trevor terribly and incite thankfulness for the life we had. He had left me in the dream. Decided he no longer wanted to be with me. Rejected me. Moved on. The sting of rejection hurt so much. I had been cast aside. Left. Alone. With the kids. In the dream I tried to find him, to find his heart and bring him back. I reminded him of the life we had, and started to win him over again. "We can't do life without each other. We were meant to grow old together." And he began to see again, and to want to come back.

Then, I was rudely awaked from this hope by a little person who was hungry and ready for the day to begin. Oooooooh. Ooow. He is never coming home. Hope dashed. Feeling alone, rejected, unwanted. Missing his love. I have been left. I have been abandoned. Alone. With the kids.

But hope, as it does, fought inside of me. "That is not true." "You were always wanted, always loved." Trevor did not choose to leave me. He never would have. He adores me. Papa God did not leave me, He treasures me even more deeply than Trevor ever did. This is not cliche. I wish I had better words to tell the depth and power of this truth. Like my i-phone is laughably inadequate at capturing the sunrise, so are my words for this truth. I am adored. Adored. Wanted. Let it settle. Let it stick.

I don't think I could have walked this road without Trevor. I know that doesn't make sense, as I wouldn't have to deal with the death of a spouse if I had never had a spouse. But I could not have walked through his death without being convinced of his love. I used to dread something like this happening, as I imagined myself completely and utterly loosing it. But I KNOW I'm loved. He lifted my head, and I see hope fighting and hope rising like smoke from my chimney now.

And now I think of my other single momma friends who were actually left. And those who have been emotionally abandoned. How much more heart wrenching. Desolate. And yet, this hope rises. They are treasured more than I have ever begun to grasp. They are wanted so deeply and fiercely that it makes my soul gasp. Not Cliche. Truth.

And now I remember those who were never spoken of with love as children, never adored as babies. How could they believe this love? And yet it is true. Adored. Seen. Treasured. Inadequate words again.

And my soul fights. And my heart screams. And yet, that dang hope rises. And I gather pine cones with the kids to make more fires.

Dang hope.