Yesterday Nic and I had a rare quiet moment together. He has been getting a little lost in the shuffle lately since Kenny requires so much time and Tommy demands it. We played a tickle game then cuddled and played "baby." I wrapped him up in a receiving blanket, rocked him, and sang him some of his nighttime songs, most of which are songs that my Dad sang to me when I was little.
I began to sing "In His Time" (In His time/in His time/He makes all things beautiful in His time/Lord please show me everyday/as you're teaching me your way/That you do just what you say in your time...Lord my life to you I bring/May each song I have to sing/be to you a lovely thing in your time), and quickly choked up as I thought of all the things that God has been doing in our lives over the past four years. This time of year I always get a little teary. I miss my girl.
Four years ago we met our daughter and said goodbye far too quickly. In moments like those it's hard to believe that life will go on, that you can press forward, that you will survive. Yet here we sit, four years later, with lives bursting at the seams with joy. Our boys are walking bundles of vibrant, exuberant life.
We sat with sorrow, but in His time, God used our brokenness and created a new family, and then did it again, and again. Four years ago Jeff and I didn't know if we would ever have children. Now we have three. Three. It still seems incredible to me.
Losing Leah hurt. It still hurts. It will probably always be that way. But I can no longer think about that anguish without expanding my view. That pain is a sliver of our story, a small piece of the "lovely thing" that God is doing in our lives. When I think of the pain now, I can only see it with the parts that come attached to it - Tommy, Nicolas, Kenny and all of the many decisions we made differently, and experiences we have had because of the course our lives took after Leah's death. I'm not happy that I lost my daughter. I wish I could have my life now with her and with everything else unchanged. But since we did lose her, and we can't alter that, I am so intensely grateful that we have been so abundantly blessed, that God has created beauty from our ashes...in His time.
I began to sing "In His Time" (In His time/in His time/He makes all things beautiful in His time/Lord please show me everyday/as you're teaching me your way/That you do just what you say in your time...Lord my life to you I bring/May each song I have to sing/be to you a lovely thing in your time), and quickly choked up as I thought of all the things that God has been doing in our lives over the past four years. This time of year I always get a little teary. I miss my girl.
Four years ago we met our daughter and said goodbye far too quickly. In moments like those it's hard to believe that life will go on, that you can press forward, that you will survive. Yet here we sit, four years later, with lives bursting at the seams with joy. Our boys are walking bundles of vibrant, exuberant life.
We sat with sorrow, but in His time, God used our brokenness and created a new family, and then did it again, and again. Four years ago Jeff and I didn't know if we would ever have children. Now we have three. Three. It still seems incredible to me.
Losing Leah hurt. It still hurts. It will probably always be that way. But I can no longer think about that anguish without expanding my view. That pain is a sliver of our story, a small piece of the "lovely thing" that God is doing in our lives. When I think of the pain now, I can only see it with the parts that come attached to it - Tommy, Nicolas, Kenny and all of the many decisions we made differently, and experiences we have had because of the course our lives took after Leah's death. I'm not happy that I lost my daughter. I wish I could have my life now with her and with everything else unchanged. But since we did lose her, and we can't alter that, I am so intensely grateful that we have been so abundantly blessed, that God has created beauty from our ashes...in His time.
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