Although that day six months ago was dark and painful, this day, six months later, is one of healing. It is one of beautiful and terrible memories. It is one of thanksgiving and brokeness. Not a day goes by that my heart doesn't ache to hold my baby again. I am constantly reminded of him in the obvious and not-so-obvious things in my life. But, through it all, God has strengthened us. He has changed us for the better. He has worked in us and through us. I am amazed at His goodness. I praise Him for working so evidently in our lives. Through our pain, there is promise. He has never left our side, and we blessed forever by His enduring presence.
I had to chuckle a little this morning as Maggie walked into my bedroom. Last night, she got a sparkly tattoo kit and has been tatting herself up since. She came in with glitter pen in hand and asked me to write the same words on her foot that were on mine: Psalm 40. She had already drawn a footprint like the one adorning mine: the footprint of my precious Elijah. So, although I should be concerned that her interest in tattoos is great at age 4, I am a bit proud instead. Not only does she want to be like her mommy, she wants to remember her brother. I love that little girl to bits!
That girl is going to set the world on fire for Gid's glory. How blessed you are to train her up!
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