The Third Monday of November

I sat on the couch in my pajamas. Chris had gone to work. My mom was sitting in the recliner we had hauled up in September with a bassinet and a crib. They were in the room upstairs that was supposed to be his in March, still in travel condition. My dad and sister had returned to West Virginia.

I remember my words and the tears and my mother's arms and her tears that morning.

He is supposed to be here with me.

Today sitting on the same couch in a house far from that one. My tears still well in my eyes with grief, but I know things now that I didn't then and as I did then so now I find the things that speak His love and bring joy to my heart.

:: comments that tell me that I am not alone in feeling the weight of his life ::

:: friends here who know the story and ask ::

:: yellow grocery store daisies and pink cards delivered on the day ::

:: the blanket unfinished ::

:: early ultrasound pictures ::

:: cards filled with kind words ::

:: a recording ::

:: the angel and two bears, gifts for mother and child::

:: a box in our closet ::

:: touching love ::

And those two

:: boys with brown eyes and round faces ::

:: girls who ask for more babies ::

who will never replace him, but who like him are good gifts of transformation from a God who proves Himself so faithful.