I Remember This Place

Once a year we go up to Wisconsin and visit Leah's grave. After church last Sunday we packed up the car and made the drive. It's a bit longer since we've moved, and it feels even farther since a certain baby boy has decided he does not enjoy long car rides and has become rather vocal about it.

When we arrived at Prairie Home, Jeff asked Tommy if he knew where we were, as we had been talking about it and showing him pictures to prepare him. As they approached Leah's headstone Tommy replied, "I remember this place," and then ran off to pull flags from veterans' graves (don't worry, we stopped him).

We cleaned off the grave marker, left a few little flowers from our garden, had our birthday cake, or rather, cupcakes, cried, and clung to our boys. Oh how I love my boys, but I sure miss my little girl.











As I was looking at Leah's album in the morning with Tommy one picture caught my eye. The picture of Jeff and me standing alone by Leah's grave:


At the cemetery I kept thinking back to that moment, of us being so alone just three short years ago. At that time I never could have comprehended how much joy and fulfillment these last two years would bring and how gloriously crowded our apartment and lives would become. It is so much easier to sit on the grass that grows up over my baby's casket, and under the tree that shades her from the storms while holding my two boys and experiencing so clearly the bountiful blessings that God has given us in the wake of our pain and our sorrow. I wish that I could spend each day with all of my children, but understanding that that isn't possible, I am so very grateful for the two precious sons that God has brought into our lives.


I remember the place of suffering, of loss, of loneliness. But I don't live there anymore.