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Outside my window…the kids are on a run with their dad.

I am thinking…about how much I miss my Uriah.

I am thankful...God has blessed me with such a beautiful healing balm. Asher makes me smile every day.

From the kitchen...will be some type of Italian dish with garlic bread and salad.

I am wearing...a blanket of grief.

I am remembering...how Uriah smelled, felt, looked…

I am going...to a class at church tonight.

I am reading...over 100 sympathy cards sent to us after Uriah’s passing. I was amazed at the number of people who prayed for us. Half the people I don't even know.

I am praying…that my sweet daughter will get the rest that she needs.

On my mind…is my third child.

I am hearing...the music from Uriah’s funeral, Asher squeal and talk from his little chair, the basketball bounce in the driveway as the kids play after their run, and Jesse’s keyboard as he types away.

Around the house...bags ready to go to Goodwill, and less dust. :o)

Noticing that….time heals the pain and the pain lessens, but the pain always remains.

Pondering these words…



Psalms 139 :

14 I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.
15 My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
16 Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!
18 If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee.


One of my favorite things...is listening to Asher talk himself to sleep.

A picture thought…Two of my favorite people.

2 comments:

Jennifer said...

Thinking of you...

Patricia said...

Hannah,

A beautiful, love filled post. I enjoyed seeing all of you. Praying for continual healing. You are doing the right thing by allowing yourself time to inhabit the past.

Love you,
Mom