This time two years ago was a night full of excitement. It was the last time I had visions in my mind of all the things our family would do over the years to come. At least those visions....the ones every parent has about life watching their kids grow up, times we'd spend together, places we would go, how the Halls would tackle life. That was the last few hours my life felt ‘normal.’ For 37 years my life had felt normal. I never really knew that was a thing until it was no longer normal. I’ve given up on understanding the why’s of what happened. I struggle to stop replaying the what-ifs. I struggle at times to not be completely numb when thinking back. For whatever reason our life’s path took a very different turn during the course of that night. These last two years have been hard, any maybe the hardest of all is knowing you aren’t working through a problem that will eventually be solved. You grind through college to graduate. You try to recover from surgery where you’re allergic to the pain medicines knowing at some point your body will heal itself and it will be fine again. You work hard all your life so that one day you can retire and sit back and enjoy it. There won’t come a day when Harper is well. We're working through a difficulty that has no solution, no fix, no rest, no wholeness this side of eternity. My brain is wired to fix things. Everything in my daily life I continually analyze to find ways to fix or improve those things around me. I can’t fix this, and I know I will never be able to, and that is hard for me to cope with. I go through each day putting together a puzzle knowing there will always be pieces missing in the end. Two years ago is the night those pieces disappeared. This perfectly normal picture in my mind would never come to fruition. My mental approach to the rest of my life was suddenly invalidated, gone. However, over these last two years my objectives changed...no longer working on puzzle to complete it, but working to put together as much as I can and cherishing whatever it is that I can still see. If life is worth 5000 pieces, that night we were given no more than a handful of what Harper would be. But over time God has continued to hand us more and more pieces, and we’ve got to see more and more areas come together as beautiful sections of who Harper is. I’ve realized it’s nothing like what we thought it would be, nothing like the front of the box at all. It’s much more captivating and moving than we ever expected. If you see us heading down a long dead end road, don’t feel sorry for us. We aren’t worried about the cliff at the end, not right now. We are truly smelling each of those roses along the way, and will continue to live life with Harper and the other kids that way. Two years ago tonight we were a destination family. Today, we are a family made up of a continual wreck of emotions that lives as slow as this revolving Earth will let us. We love you all and we are thankful you have come with us far enough to celebrate Harper’s 2nd birthday tomorrow!
Harper's arrival and journey into life
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