It's been 4 weeks now. 4 weeks since we lost our little boy. John, delivered at 15 weeks, delivered to us without life. John, whose little flutters had not escaped me in the week before...only the day before we expected to hear your heartbeat for the first time. John, so unbelievably small and already taking up so much of my heart.
We've been grieving so deeply these past weeks, it's just now that I can pen this. Tears have flown freely while this body has healed. And still I feel the loss like it was yesterday and wonder at times when I'll be able to move forward...not forgetting, but living though a part of me is gone.
This week I took up a paint brush, a real brush with a real canvas, for the first time in years. And there is release in the flow of the paint, the swirl of color, and the way the light comes back to me. Light from within and I lighten somehow the load.
There have been prayers, prayers a plenty. Pleading and mournful and even thankful. Now I am here with my waking, daily prayer: LORD, on this day grant me the strength to make it through this day, this day alone. Grant me comfort when I just can't do it and if it is Your will, please show me how You are using this to make me better for You. Thank You for the many blessings You give to me in the here and now. I'll not worry of what is past nor what is to come. Thank you for loving me. Amen.
‘"Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you.” Isaiah 54:10 (NIV)
And I see possibility as I pull my self back into reality, this broken me into a whole. I'm a mommy to three beautiful babes though one be an angel. I'm a wife to an amazing man. I am creative and I can move forward and still remember, and I can paint, and I can pray. Possibility.