When someone dies, we try to remember everything we can about them--the good memories, their laugh, the way their hands looked at rest, the way their eyes would light up.
But what do you do when you lose someone you never got to meet?
I think, in my case, I have been remembering who Jesus was to me in my grief.
He was my strong tower. I ran to Him, and I was safe.
He was my light in a very dark time.
He was there, steadfast and true, never leaving my side.
He was the one who helped me run like I had never run before--He was my coach, my endurance. I ran a race and ran it well, thanks to Him.
He was the friend who didn't try to fix me. He just listened to me and held me when I cried.
He was my mirror, showing me some things in my life that He wanted to change and heal.
He was the Giver. And He blessed me two-fold. With Felix and Milo. Two instead of one. He laughed, I am sure!, when I learned I was carrying two!
He was my everything. And He still is.
So, on this day, the day my precious one would have been having the first birthday, I remember. I remember the excitement for the little one. I remember how quickly I loved. I remember the crushing reality of loss.
And I remember, how deeply He loved me through it all. And I thank Him.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone