I'm Awake Again

It is after midnight. The hum of the computer and the crackle of the wood stove, are the overwhelming sounds I hear as I wonder why it is so hard to sleep tonight.

I was busy today. It was a good day. The kind that homeschool Mom's have when it all just comes together. My children smiled.
So did I.

And now, in darkness, with fake screen glow piercing, I fight the thoughts.

Six months. January 16th will be six months. Half of a year. And I can still see his little breaths,
one,
two,
three . . .
as he let go of me and fell into the arms of Jesus.

And I am lonely. Surrounded by blessings, love, and life, I long for him selfishly.

And I wonder, will I ever have another?

Half of a year, and time marches on, dragging me with, step by step, like a little girl following her Momma to the bus stop.

I don't wanna.

And as I say it, as I face my gut force of emotion, I feel Him.
And he swoops me up,strong tower, mighty to save,
I fall desperately into the arms of Jesus.
And I cling.



and I let Him carry me.

In the Still of the Night

It is here in the quiet that I sense the loss. It is when my head hits the pillow that the events replay in my mind. Over and over, I see him. Over and over I remember the pain.

I can't let him go.

And I want to.

To truly release him into Gods loving hands. But I long for him.





And my youngest, my baby, she is getting older. Almost 2. Not really a baby anymore. Will I ever have another? Will this broken down body house life again? I want to, but I hear the whispers of emptiness, and I realize the barren womb is never satisfied. I try to make peace with a new normal. I try to understand what my new normal even is. I pray and I seek and I hope.
I am missing you tonight John.
But the Lord promises that joy comes in the morning and so I wait.

Ps 30:5 For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life:
weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.