
Welcome to My world. It may be interesting, it may not, but it is my life. Maybe, just maybe, my life will touch someone elses and maybe it will be you.
![]()
| Community Blog Ring Ring Owner: Amanda/Blu Site: The Bloggers Blog | ||||
![]() | ![]() | ![]() | ![]() | ![]() |
![]() | ||||
.
My goodness look at all the spamers! I love reading your blog! It inspired me to leave an incredibly long entry in my own blog about my personal loss. I also have links now to "Infant Loss Awareness" sites. I hope you will visit! The post is in my Archives!
I have always loved to hunt for easter eggs and solve puzzles, and now I can do that every weekend. I look forward to sharing my journey's with geocaching here as well.
Two months is too little.
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.
Who told us we'd be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We're asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It's unfair.
Chorus:
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow.
The wise hand opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.
(Chorus)
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
Bridge:
If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?
(Chorus)
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
| These ducks Showed up in our front yard and nested in our hastas, unfortunately the nest was abandoned before the eggs hatched. | |
| This is Columbine that bloomed in our garden this spring. | ![]() |
| This purple flower also bloomed in our front garden. Not sure what variety it is. | ![]() |

Trying to balance time with my husband and growing my marriage, and time writing has been a difficult one. I have been failing miserably at the writing part, but I guess if one would have to suffer I would prefer to see the writing time suffer. I do miss writing, and tonight I find myself unable to sleep and able to spend a few moments writing.
Part of the reason for not sleeping is I am nervous. I am heading off to Las Vegas next week, for work. I will be going without DH and it is the first time we will be apart since Elijah's death. I have never had issues being apart before but with this being the first time since Eli left us, it has been hitting me hard. It is just a small part of me that is scared to leave. I am afraid I will fall apart without him. I know I won't, and I do have a cell phone even if I do. It is just one of those milestones that you have to get through. It also does not help that Mother's day is fast approaching and I am dreading that day. It is for me a day of grief. A day of remembering that I am a mom, but a mom to a child who is now in Jesus' arms. I have 2 pictures that I keep close to my heart as I move toward Mother's Day without Elijah.
![]() | This picture always reminds that Elijah is OK and he is in Heaven with Jesus |
| This pictures reminds me that Elijah felt and gave love even in his short life of 7 days. |
I am still amazed at how much that little life has touched mine. In just nine months, the little seed was planted and grew. In just nine months of life in utero he stole my heart, and seven days in my arms assured that a piece of my heart went to heaven with him.
A baby can touch so many lives. I see each day how much Eli has touched me and those around me. Even those people who never got to see Elijah, get to see his love for me, and my love for him. I will never forget my little Elijah.
Now, I have to apologize if I do not write on a regular basis. I will be in Las Vegas next week, but in the following weeks I hope to get a regular schedule of writing down. I would like to write a minimum of one time a week, more if I have more to say.
Life has been going by so quickly that I have not had a chance to sit down and write. I also have not felt like I had anything to write about. Everytime I sit down at the PC to write, I find my mind a blank. No words come. This is hard for me because normally words are my way of grieving, of exploring what I am feeling, and they have not been coming. Not even poetry has been flowing from my pen.
It could be due to the fact that I am slowly encorporating the grief into my day to day life, and it does not jar me as much so I do not feel the need to write about it. I do not know.
Spring has sprung here, it was so warm and beautiful today. I spent my lunch hour in my car with the windows down and the sunroof open. I always love the first days of spring. They inspire hope and joy. Tomorrow it is supposed to be even warmer. I cannot wait to feel the warmth on my face and enjoy the spring sun.
Spring air carries on it the hope of new life.
Leaves budding, birds chirping, and babies laughing
My heart is strengthened by the sunshine
Life comes again after a winter of dispair.

"Go down to the potter's house and there I will give you my message." - Jeremiah 18:2
We had a potter come in to grief support group a couple weeks ago and it was an amazing experience. They had the potter making a pot on stage as the narrator went through the process and related it to our relationship with God.
When Jeremiah went down to the potter's house God did not speak but while watching the potter work Jeremiah was shown how God is like the potter.
When a potter would get the clay in ancient times they would go out to the clay pits and climb in and go to the bottom, because that is where the best clay was. He would climb down and pull the clay out of the pit, just as God pulls us out of the pit.
Then before puting the clay on the wheel the potter would wedge the clay. Watching this process was eye opening. The clay is folded and pressed to get out the air pockets and lumps. This was a tough process. The potter was puting all her strength into pressing out the lumps and air pockets. God works us, and it can hurt. There will be pressure, but it is in the beginning of the process that God works in us to make us strong in Him.
Once the clay is put on the wheel it is centered. Another amazing thing to watch. As the potter centered the clay it fought her. She had to keep pressing it and moving it on the wheel until it was in the center of the wheel. When it was not in the center the clay fought her it wobbled and shook until it was in just the right place on the wheel to be molded and shaped. I was reminded that I must be centered in Christ before I can be shaped.
The clay is then pierced to create a heart. It starts with a small heart, but through work it gets bigger, just as God is growing my heart. I must be pirced to grow my heart. I must be opened up to God to become an open vessel and be used by Him.
The potter builds up the walls. This is amazing to watch. She puts her hands in the heart and works the walls. She had to be gentle to work the walls up so that they would not collapse. Just as the potter builds the walls up through work and edification, I am also built up and my heart is made bigger and I become a useful vessel in God's Hands as he continues to work out the flaws.
Finally the pot is fired in the kiln. Before the pot is fired it is weak and can collapse. In the fire it is purified and becomes solid rock. In life we are put through the fire and purified to become strong in Christ.
I could never tire of watching the potter work. If you ever get a chance to watch one work, I challenge you to do it. It is an amazing process. Hats off to all potters. The message God has given us through your art is clear. Thank you.
Believe me. I want to write. I want to have something provide some profound enlightened statement, but I just cannot. Somedays the words do not flow. I am not sad, or mad or angry. Just not inspired to write at this point. Well, good night. I am tired and I will try to write something later this week. Maybe I will be inspired -- maybe not. I want to hope I will.