This is the fourth morning in a row that I have awaken at 4:30 AM compelled to delve into my journey through the book of Job. Although originally I very much preferred to sleep through the night, I am now at a place where I very much enjoy this time with the Lord. (Please do not misunderstand and think that I am becoming a morning person--I would still highly recommend ignoring me until you get an "all clear" sign indicating that I will not attempt to ruin your life if you talk to me) Today I finished the chapters of Job. I've heard the story many times before but it was like this morning was the first time that I ever read the ending. Everything that had been taken from Job was returned--much of it twofold. His faithfulness was rewarded in a way that he never dreamed. This story gives me hope, and I am humbled that our sweet Christopher Job shares in the namesake of this steadfast man serving as a reminder that no matter how much loss or pain or reason that you feel you have to be angry, hurt, or reject God He will be faithful to you if you trust Him through the storm. Our storm is far from over--in some ways it seems like it hasn't even started yet--but there is hope on the horizon. It is still seems so far away, but where there is hope, peace may be found.

One week ago I woke up at this time of morning and realized that my hand was positioned on my still-stretched abdomen with my thumb out and middle and ring fingers folded tightly to my palm. The sign language symbol for love was over where my baby slept tucked deep inside of me. I have so much love for this child. Love that didn't die when his heart stopped. Love that only grows in depth each day as I reflect on how much I have poured myself into his being. A mother's love. Love that he reciprocated back to me in his still, silent gesture when he was born with his arms gently folded across his tiny chest...the only way that he could tell me that he loved me, too. Thanks for that, Lord!

In the depths of my soul there is a peace. I just know that we'll heal from this someday. We'll never forget, but we'll heal. My mind, though, is a different story. I have no idea what is going on in there or how to process those emotions. I feel guilt when I have reprieve from my grief long enough to find the strength to go for a walk or engage in meaningful conversation with a friend without crying. I feel like I am not missing my son enough when I do something that I enjoy. My mind tricks me into thinking that if I am not sad about missing him all the time then I am forgetting him and moving on all too soon. I miss my CJ (it was only a matter of time before his mommy shortened it) more than you could know and each day becomes one day longer since I've held him or saw his sweet face. Even when my eyes are dry my heart weeps at the very whisper of anything related to him, and since my world and thoughts started to embrace becming a mom, everything around me seems to relate back to him and to our loss. A loss that on some sweet day will be as peaceful in mind as it is in my soul. Someday a long time from now.

OK, that's it for now. I'm going back to bed. My mind and body need some more rest to face another day. As I finish this post I am curled up in my bed with my prayer shawl so ready to drift off. Good night and love to all.
~M