My heart is heavy this week, hearing of so many who have passed away. I have been praying for everyone who has asked, but still there always seems to be someone else. With the world made so small through social media, there is always something sorrowful to hear about.
Then there is the March for Life in D.C. on the anniversary of Roe vs. Wade. I was asked to write a pro-life piece for ChurchPOP, and all I could come up with was another reflection on miscarriage.
Despite all of these things, there is still hope. The people I know of who passed away are people of faith, and have so many praying for the repose of their souls and for the comfort of their families.
We celebrated on Sunday the one year anniversary of my Dad's nearly fatal aortic dissection. He is alive and better every day.
And last week I got to see this:
I drove to the ultrasound alone, since one child had a fever, and we could not leave the kids with a friend as we had planned. I was leaving, the two year old really wanted to come. I told her that she could not come, but that I would bring back some pictures of the baby. Then I asked her if she knew where the baby was, gesturing toward my growing belly.
"At the doctors," was her solemn response. Well, I guess it might seem that way to a two year old...