After dinner I had to meet with a committee that I preside over, and after we met four of us sat outside and drank margaritas. We laughed and talked for two hours, and let me tell you I needed it. Someone asked about my tattoo and I told her it was the baby's name. I could tell for a split second she felt bad and awkward, but I just kept right on talking about the baby and how I had originally wanted to get her footprints etc., and I could tell that they knew it was OK to talk about her. And it is OK. It's more than OK. I want to talk about her. That is the only way I get to share her with the world.
In case you were wondering (and I know you are) I am going to go to my uncle's funeral tomorrow. We'll see how that goes.
Someone sent this to me, and I think it's very relevant to my life right now:
As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.
You will have you heart broken, probably more than once and it's harder every time.
You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken.
You'll fight with your best friend.
You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.
You'll cry because time is passing too fast,
and you'll eventually lose someone you love.
So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.
Also, I found this song today that I thought I would share.
by Natalie Grant
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
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?
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 hands open slowly to Lily's of the Valley and tomorrow