I had a hard morning. Nothing bad happened, it was just my own mind, my own thoughts, my own memories. Things can creep up on you so suddenly; you aren't prepared for it.
I was in the shower and for whatever reason I was thinking about a movie I had seen recently, and a woman in it who had four children. That made me think of a show I watched last night about a couple who had adopted more than 2 dozen children. Meandering along, I thought of my own family, with my three precious children. And as I have so frequently done since the Man and I made the final decision on the size of our family, I found myself feeling a bit of sadness that our 'babymaking' days are finished. I tried to steer my mind back on track, to think of how I needed to finish getting myself ready for church. But it was too late. I was already headed down that path that I am powerless to avoid. I thought about the size of my family, and the reality of how many children I 'should' have. And I cried. I cried because I am the mother of six, but I only get to kiss three of them every day. I cried because even though so many years have passed, time can never change a mother's heart that yearns for her children.
I am so thankful for how the Lord has healed so many of the black layers of my heart over the years, a healing which I never believed that I deserved. There are days that I cling to my grief like a petulant child in many ways, for it is all I have left of them and I choose to not give it up. But I am thankful that mornings like this are more fleeting than not.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” ~ John 14:27