Today is the third of April, which commemorates Keith and my seven-year wedding anniversary.
Today also marks six months and twenty-eight days since I’ve held Olivia, alive, in my arms.
Life is different now.
We’ve sold all our stuff (our house, including all relics to the life we’d built) and are now inhabitants of a fifth wheel. Without providing the particulars, Keith and I’ve begun again.
Until the end of May, our home currently sits on the banks of Lago Vista, a small metropolis where Lake Travis snakes through the hill-country. We’ve a strong emotional support system here, and a network of resources to help move us through the next several weeks.
In addition, Keith has relinquished his career at Exxon Mobil, and I’ve started to write a memoir of Olivia’s life. It’s to be titled, Girl Named Outlaw (as you may have correctly guessed) and I’ve every intention of publishing.
Life is sacred now.
The former things have passed away and all things have become new.
Keith and I don’t have a plan in the traditional lexicon.
What we have is motive: a causal drive to live out our soul's purpose.
This seed that Olivia has embedded so deeply into our hearts must be cultivated, so we choose to honor her by stepping into the unknown with courage and hope.
Also, in November, we had the honor of gifting Olivia’s Triobike to a family with a medically fragile child. It's with gladness that I finally share these snapshots with you. More information on the boys can be found via their mother’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/grrfeisty/
Love & Light,
March Sunset Location: Lago Vista, Texas
Capture: Canon 60D, 28-135 mm lens
