Morning Mumbles

There’s something about this morning that makes it one of the most beautiful mornings I’ve experienced. Especially since losing Harlynn.

I’m not sure what it is. It could be that there’s hardly a breeze at all disturbing the trees. They’re standing stoically – almost like neighborhood guards, standing at attention, protecting us.  The lilac bushes are in full bloom. The flowering trees are adorned with colorful petals (of allergen-infused beauty). The birds are singing. The sky is gray, but not gloomy. Everything is so peaceful. So serene. Sitting here in my newly-arranged living room with my hot cup of coffee, I’m soaking up the comforts of the day. I can’t explain it, I can’t describe it, but I know the Lord is giving me peace I would otherwise be incapable of experiencing.

Today marks seven weeks from the night I went in to labor. Seven weeks. We expected our lives to be forever changed because of Harlynn. We never expected how that change would actually occur. It’s not anything any parent ever expects. It’s not something any parent can comprehend. It is the definition of the unthinkable.

As I sit here in my living room, with a minuscule dose of the “peace that passes all understanding”, I think back to that moment when we learned the news. The disbelief that racked my being. Holding Harlynn in my arms and feeling her soft hair. She had so much hair. She was at peace before ever experiencing a single ounce of this world’s suffering. I envy her. I miss her. I long to feel the level of peace and joy she experiences every moment of every day. I long for her embrace and hearing her call me “Mommy!”  Lord, just come.

It’s hard for me to believe that a week from now I’ll be sitting in my office, working, participating in the “normal” life I once knew. That life seems so foreign to me now. If you think of it, will you pray for me as I prepare to return to work? That I can function. That I can once again be a contributing member of society. That those around me would be gentle when I’m fragile, and supportive in my moments of strength.

For today, and for the rest of this week, I’ll focus on making the most of the moments I have. Haley and I have already had such an enjoyable morning together. We’ve done laundry – and she is an excellent laundry helper. We’ve done other housework, and we’ve had fun doing it. Not too many people can say they have fun doing housework. We’ve played together, we’ve shared story time, we’ve danced. Haley is such a joy. She provides pure delight to those around her. Especially her Mommy.  Later, we’ll try our hand at shopping for our first plant-based-meal. If there’s one person who likes vegetables less than I do, I birthed her. It should be interesting.

Today I thank God for the morning he’s given us. I thank him for carrying me through these last seven weeks. I thank him for allowing me to hold Harlynn in my heart since I can’t hold her in my arms.

Next: The Greatest Of All
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