There will always be storms. Like crazy can’t see the car in front of you kind of storms. Literal and hypothetical. Storms are a part of this life. But the hope is in the promise of the rainbow. And in the reminder of a tomorrow. Storms don’t last forever. Eventually they stop. And the sun will shine again. 

It seems we are always chasing light. We are always looking for more time. Just one more conversation. One more hug. One more I love you. One more acknowledgement, one more nod of pride. One more smile. One more everything. We are chasing fleeting moments. The sun always fades into night, but we plead for a bit more light anyway. Just a little bit longer. “I’m almost ready”, we say. Though, we never are. No one ever is.

Watching the sun fade on the lives of those we love is never easy. And no matter how many times we experience it, it never gets easier. It always hurts. We always plead for more minutes. For more I love you’s. For more laughter. For more life. We always chase the light hoping to outrun the setting sun. #thebeautyingrace

Hands. They are a beautiful thing. This particular pair is that of my grandaddy. They were strong. Soft. Hardworking. Loving. Callused. Gentle. Steady. Beautiful. I always had a fondness for holding my grandaddy’s hand. I don’t know if it’s because my small hands always felt safe in his, or if they just always seemed loving… But whatever the case, I loved these hands and the man that was attached to them. I will no longer hold his hand this side of eternity, but I look forward to the day when I get to embrace his hands again. #thebeautyingrace