When you lose a child, you carry them everywhere. A few weeks ago, our family hiked the hills of Mississippi. It was the perfect outing. Really.
Only, at the end of our walk, I found myself behind the littles...with an empty backpack carrier.
A series of thoughts led to my miscarriage - more than seven years ago.
There was no ultrasound print-out, so I can’t even picture a face.
But, in my mind, he was a little boy.
Grief following pregnancy loss never fully leaves you, and you learn to move with the weight.
In the woods that day, I cried tears that connected me to the child I’ll never know.
I’m still healing.
Maybe you are, too.
But what I am learning is that the pain of life grows our heart for the littles we get to love on this side.
Maybe they are conceived.
Maybe they are adopted.
Maybe they are fostered.
Maybe they are mentored.
But, Friends, let my story be a testament:
When life strips you of your hope, God is calling you to something more.
And all those years later, you’ll do more than carry a memory - you will feel the dream you once dreamed in the breeze, in the rustling leaves, and in the sweet laughter of God’s promises.
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