Just yesterday I was praying for my baby to be blessed with a baby of her own. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, and months to years. Joy moved to sorrow and sorrow to joy in an alarming pattern. Hope dashed and restored to be dashed again.
Stoic hearts continually prepared to absorb pain are not so quick to register the absence of it.
The full impact of answered prayers has taken a while to settle into the recesses of my mind and heart. I am not proud of this, but trusting God, and not letting go of the fear is not conducive to peace of mind.
Excitement brings joy and a little less fear with each passing day. I am like a child waiting on Christmas while it seems as if it will never arrive.
Six Years
10 years ago
