1 Year [A Bittersweet]

*Today marks the one year birthday of our sweet angel baby. And while we don't know our baby's gender and we never were able to name him or her, I still think about them on a pretty consistent basis. So I wrote a letter to them. Because it seemed right.*

My Sweet Baby,

One year ago today you were born into your Jesus' arms. Even though the memory of it all is painful and there are times I wish I could forget, I am certain I will never forget.

Because you see, while I would never wish to lose you, your death gave life to your sweet sister, Aubrey. And I simply cannot imagine life without her.

Yet I find I miss you. I miss you when I'm corraling your siblings to leave the house. I miss you when I fold the tiny clothes made dirty by imaginary play and spit up. I miss you when I fix meals and am serving out the child-size portions. I miss you when I pass the hospital I sat within waiting and hoping for words of hope all the while knowing I would only wish the earth would open up and swallow me there on the spot. (Just for the record, I wouldn't mind if I never have to set foot in their halls again.) I miss you when I hear your older sister laughing and I know yours should already be mingled with it. I miss you when I think of the milestones we would be celebrating with you.

And oh how I want to hold you! To feel your warmth against me. To pick you up when you fall after taking your first steps.

While I want all of this, while I miss you, part of me feels like missing you is wanting to have my cake and eat it, too.

And so even though it hurts to know I will never know you this side of heaven, I also have a peace about it all knowing without your death Aubrey would not be here.

Enjoy being in His presence, Little One!

I love you!!
Mommy

Frankly Friday [v. 9]

(Linking up wtih Amy from Taking Steps Home) :)

Let me be honest up front: if you have had a miscarriage or are TTC and traveling the journey of infertility, this post may be difficult for you to connect with. However, I want to remain a open with my readers as possible and because this is what has been playing in my mind a lot lately, I felt the need to hash it out, even if only for myself.

For those of you who are new here, I had a miscarriage back in March. (You can read all the posts I've written regarding this here.) Though that baby was a complete surprise and the timing of everything wouldn't have been so great, I had already experienced the blessing of a God-planned baby rather than my own. And I still can't imagine life without my little Zoë. (Who isn't so little anymore. :/)

Thus I quickly accepted the new life within me. I readily embraced it. I had my moments where fear tried to take hold of me, but I chose to cling to the truth of Psalm 127:3-5, "Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies at the gate."

And then I lost the baby at 7 weeks.

I was devastated. Shocked. Angry.

There were so many emotions that encompassed the loss of the little life within me. Even to the point that I almost didn't want to think about getting pregnant again. I didn't want to resurface the discussion Ben and I had been having before we found out we were pregnant - trying to maybe get pregnant closer to the fall. The fear of losing another baby was too real, too raw. And I knew all too well how much control I had over whether I would be pregnany full term or not - none. Nada. Zip.

That thought made me toy with the idea of never trying to conceive again.

And then, we were slightly surprised to find out we were pregnant. Again.

And though I slowly found myself warming to the idea of welcoming our 3rd into our family, I found some other strange emotions floating around in my head and heart.

For a while I couldn't quite put my finger on them, but the more I tried to figure it out, the more I realized what it was. And I found myself a little shocked, but at the same time sort of not, with what I was feeling: I wasn't completely ready to embrace the life I'm currently carrying because I still wanted to be carrying the one I was supposed to greet come November.

Maybe I'm alone in feeling this. Maybe someone who has had the same happen with them can relate. And because of some comments I've heard from others who have miscarried and then welcomed a life that was conceived not long after the miscarriage, I am hopeful that in time the Lord will help me to see the full beauty of the short life of my child born to heaven on March 20, 2013. I am hopeful that He will allow me to completely embrace this child growing within me.

But for the time being, I frequently find myself wishing I was further along. Wishing that I could know the child who I shared my body with for only a short amount of time.

While I really do find myself wishing that, I simultaneously hate myself because it means that I'm subconciously wishing away the life that I've begun to feel move within me. It makes me feel heartless.

But in reality, I wish that I could know, here on this earth, both babies. (No...I'm not asking for twins. The idea of two complete infants at the same time scares the patooties out of me.) Maybe that's why I find myself wishing that I was still pregnant with our second, because something in me thinks that if I was, then after that baby was born, I would later become pregnant with the one I'm currently carrying.

Yet, I am not God. I have no idea if that's really how it would work.

And in the midst of all these crazy jumbled thoughts I'll realize that by dwelling on this desire, I'm losing opporunity to pray for the life currently in me. I'm missing out on the opportunity to connect and care for my Little Bean right now. I missing out on praying that God would allow this child to be used for His glory and that part of that would be this LB would come to know Him at an early age.

My dwelling on the past and feeding on the desire for it to be different steals from the here and now. It doesn't allow me to fully depend on God. It keeps me from enjoying and seeing God working in my life now. It also doesn't allow me to see how He has worked in my life in the past. Nor does it help me to look to the future with the hope I have of eternity with Him.

It is a tactic straight from the pit of hell. And at times, though I hate to admit it, it has fully worked.

This isn't the only situation this has or can be used in. Really, anything we face that has a similarity to the past can find you in this place. Sometimes there don't even have to be similarites to find yourself wishing that wherever you are in life was a little different.

However, I hope that I'm learning and will store away the lessons I'm learning from this situation: you should learn from the past, but once you've learned what you can from them, that is as far as it should go. Trying to change the story that God is weaving will only leave you missing out on the now and missing out on being in the center of His will.

I don't know about you, but I really don't want to be anywhere else but the center of His will. Yes, my flesh desires at times to win out and I find myself wanting to just live life how I want, but I've already been there and done that, it is not fulfilling one bit. It is empty. It doesn't leave me with the peace I have when I do choose to whole heartedly seek God. It doesn't give me a heart that is still in the midst of turmoil because I know that when I'm fully seeking God that trials will come but they are a refining tool to make me more into Christ's likeness.

And so I encourage you: seek His face whole heartedly. If you find desires to be other than where you are creeping up, ask Him to change your heart. Ask Him to silence those desires so and to open your eyes to the story He is weaving in your life.

I'm not perfect, but I am hoping that this lesson will never leave the forefront of my mind. Or that when it seems to stray, God quickly brings my mind back to Him and how changing my story is asking to not be in His will.

Dreams of An Aching Heart

*I was going to schedule this post, but then I felt like I should go ahead and share it, while it's raw. After all, I'm more about honesty on my blog than scheduling so I don't post twice in one day. And please know this: I'm not moping around my home 24/7. Some days are great and I have joy accompanyed by happiness. Others are joy accompanyed by mourning, anger, sorrow or a mix of all the above and then some. If you're new to my blog, you may want to start here*

I ache.

Deep within my being.

Oh how I never thought I'd say these words:

"I want to be pregnant."

Now I mock my year-ago-self.

Because I long to be swelling.

Swelling with a life growing within.

Oh the pain!

This loss, so great.

My body reminds me that it is no more.

That I'm waiting.

Waiting for the opportunity.

To hear these words: "Your baby is healthy!"

To say these words: "You're a big sister!"

I ache.

My arms long to cradle new life.

But cannot bear to hold another's.

Yet wants to.

Just to feel the warmth of a tiny life.

And dream.

Dream of the day that just maybe...

Oh, to have once again!

The marks for new parenthood:

eyes weighed down from interrupted sleep

toys and blankets and bottles strewn everywhere

laundry piled at the dryer

a bag stretched 'til there's no more room

and love, an inexplicable, fierce love.

For this my heart shall dream and pray:

the beauty of a sibling brought

three be stretched to equal four

we may once more bestow our love

gathered into welcoming arms

to cherish a most wonderous blessing

oh, life! Sweet life: an infant's cries.

SSMT 2013 #9

I cannot believe it's getting closer and closer to half way. Which also will mean this year is half way over.

I am loving being committed to memorizing scripture. I am loving having His word to lean on through all the difficulties I've been recently facing, but more so because of the miscarriage. (You can read my thoughts and feelings on this here, here, here, here, here.)

I am also enjoying knowing that even when I'm having a good day, the scriptures are popping up here and there. Sometimes seemingly for no reason and other times because it applies to whatever situation is playing out that day.

*good sigh*

I am just loving it. Period.

And so on to verse #9. I know I've said in the past couple weeks that I might keep going with Psalm 62:5-8; but, I have really pressed those words into my heart and mind and feel like adding a short verse to go with that is what is best for me in this time.

And so without further ado:

"Blessed are those who mourn, 

for they shall be comforted."

Matthew 5:4

Mmm...these words actually comfort me. Not to mention, they remind me that it is is ok to be sad during this time. That it is ok to cry in front of my daughter and, yet, still be able to enjoy her at the time. Just a good reminder period because I know that this is not the last time that I will have need of mourning, whether for myself or for someone else.

So thankful for scripture!

SSMT 2013

Verse 1 & Link to Join In!

Verse 2

Verse 3

Verse 4

Verses 5 & 6

Verse 7

Verse 8

From Blank to Over-active

Not gonna lie. My mind has been a seemingly blank slate these past couple weeks. Blank as in I feel like I'm not thinking of much. And then...

BAM!

Out of no where I'm sad. I'm wishing I was pregnant. Wishing that I was needing to eat all the time to keep my blood sugar level and keep "morning" sickness at bay. Wishing that I was having to pull out all the maternity clothes I had and start looking for what I don't have and will need for this pregnancy. Wishing that I was starting to dream of names for baby #2.

And as hard as it is to remember, there are times I'm afraid I will forget. And I don't want to. Maybe because she (yes, yes, I know we didn't know the gender, but I can't give up the feminine pronouns. So "she" it will be) will forever be my second child. The next little life we are blessed with will be Daigle baby #3 to me. But then, I don't know the future.

What if we get pregnant so close to this loss that "baby #3" wouldn't exist were baby #2 to have? And what if #3 is carried full term? Would I still think of that child as number 3?

There are so many unanswered questions that at times it feels like I may never leave this phase of grief. This phase where I become angry over the loss and the seeming unfairness but then I sort of enter the bargaining phase where I ask a million "what ifs" and wonder about maybe a way I could have played the cards differently.

Ah.

Control.

It loves to stretch out it's hand toward me, begging me to take hold and promising that I will know what will happen. And then, if I really follow through and act like I have it, I later wake up to realize that it was all a dream. I was holding hands with thin air. An illusion.

An illusion I don't want to live in. An illusion that I start to grab for when my "0 to 90" mind begins wishing for things to have played out differently.

But He whispers to me, "Trust me."

And I grapple with thinking that maybe if I relinquish control I will regret it. But in the end, I regret it if I haven't listened.

"Trust Me. I can be your refuge. You can pour your heart out before Me. Trust Me."

And so I find myself back to repeating the verses you've seen spread out on here for a few weeks now. But at this time, here is what I keep hearing from them:

"Trust in Him at all times, O people;

Pour out your heart before Him;

God is a refuge for us."

Psalm 62:8 NASB

And am I ever thankful He has given these words to us. To me. For me in this time of need. This time of pain. And as unpleasant as it is, I told a friend the other day that as I've sat contemplating this part of my journey, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Why? Because you can't know love without pain, joy without sorrow, gratitude without suffering, blessing without loss. Though they don't all always cross paths, there isn't a true appreciation and understanding of one without the other at some point. It is part of an imperfect, broken world.

So I will trust. Trust that in the end this will mold me into more of His likeness and ultimately bring Him glory.

The Pain I am Facing

Well, this post may take a while. Not that I'm going to edit it. I want it to be completely raw, which in turn means you're probably going to have some typos and grammatical errors. Just sayin'. But I'm just not sure how to put everything in to words. But I'm not sure that I'll ever completely know how to put it into words.

So over the past couple of weeks I know I've mentioned I've been having a rough time. (You can read those posts here, here, and here.) And though some of it has been going on for a while due to familial situations that have arisen, all of that hasn't even been on my plate lately. Though what has been going on did feel like the straw that broke the camel's back. Because it was piled on top of an already very full plate.

Anyway, I guess I should clue you in what I'm talking about:

Just a few short weeks ago, Ben and I found out we were expecting baby #2. SURPRISE! (God loves to throw those into our picture. No we weren't trying.) Funny enough, God really gave me a peace about where we were and all the financial questions that began to toss around in my mind, and probably Ben's mind as well considering he is our sole provider. Though I wasn't sure what it would look like to grow our family by one and I definitely was wondering if I was fully capable of loving two children, knowing that I would want to and probably love this child just as much as I love Zoë, in his or her own unique way but none less than I love  her, I wasn't all that scared about upcoming arrival of a second child. I hadn't reached the "excited" phase, but I just felt completely at peace.

God had cared for us with bringing Zoë into our lives. Though it wasn't how I would have pictured it (Ben having two jobs, budget being stretched to the nth degree, etc, etc), we were never in need. Zoë was healthy aside from acid reflux, which medicine took care of. We had two cars, health insurance, a roof over our head, food on the table. We were good. Cared for. Completely.

And so God gave me that reminder to hang tight to. As well as parts of Psalm 127 that were stuck in my head. "Children are a gift from the Lord...blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them" were on repeat.  It was His word holding me steady. I might not have felt ready, but I knew that God's timing is always better than mine. His plans are better for me and are definitely not done my way (see Jeremiah 55:8).

And so I released it all to Him. I remember constantly praying, "God, this life is yours. A gift to me. Use it as you see fit. If that means a healthy child, then do so. If that means taking this life earlier than I would desire, then do so. If that means allowing this life to live with any type of disability or health issue, then do so. Whatever will bring you the most glory, that is what I want." It wasn't easy saying those words, because even though I knew I had no control over the outcome, whether or not I said them, I wasn't saying it wishing for my child to die or to be born with a disability or health issue. And in my heart of hearts, I hoped that He would allow the baby to be healthy and join us in mid-November. But more than that, I wanted whatever would bring Him the most glory.

And because I know the drill: find an OB, tell the family, continue PNVs (I was still on them because Zoë wasn't completely weaned yet), high protein-low (straight) carb diet (for me anyway, because straight carbs make me put on the pounds when I'm pregnant), I began the process. I made a phone call to my insurance to see if some recommended OBs were in network. I went out to purchase a "Big Sister" tee so we could have Zoë open it at her birthday party as the announcement. (We kept Zoë's party extremely small to a few close friends and Ben's and my parents.) And of course I made all the at home changes I could go ahead and work on to ensure I was taking care of myself and the baby as much as I could. I fully embraced the pregnancy and everything that meant for me in that time.

I even started to dream.

But shortly after I had found out and began readying myself, I began bleeding. And I knew. I knew that the little life residing inside of me was meant to only be with me for a few short weeks and long before it ever knew life outside the womb. I knew that God had allowed this to happen, though I still do not and may never know the why.

I was only able to deny it for a few short hours. I denied it because I called my OB back home, as I hadn't found one in Houston yet, who said bleeding could be normal, take it easy, and if severe cramping and/or bleeding became heavier then and only then did I need to go to the ER. I denied it because even when I drove to the ER in the pouring rain, I didn't have a diagnoses. I denied it because the doctor in the ER told me my hCG levels didn't really tell them whether or not I was miscarrying or still in the early phases of pregnancy (even though I was aware of the fact that levels had to be higher than that for a home test to read positive). I denied it because everything in me wanted to hope for a miracle and to find out later that maybe my tests were mixed up with someone elses or that the home test somehow picked up the low levels.

But I knew. Oh how I knew. I even told Ben, as I walked out the door into the pouring rain at 2 am, "God is crying for us. He knows our pain." My heart was breaking and it was trying to find any way to not recognize the pain and sorrow that I would have to embrace with the reality of what was facing us. And if only to confirm, the diagnoses on the discharge papers read "abortion - spontaneous vs. ectopic". (I feel it necessary to put here that I believe life starts at conception and I believe that a chosen abortion is killing a life. In medical terms, a miscarriage is an abortion. It rocked my boat to see that as I wasn't aware of that. And I think it also put much more sorrow in my heart over the entire situation I was faced with. I will have to visit that later...if I remember to.) There was no denying between my heart and my eyes fixed on those final words.

I had miscarried the baby. (By the way, I am no fan of that last sentence as, to me, it makes it sound like I could have done something to change it. I'm not sure why I feel it says that, but I've have to work through knowing that it just the phrase we know to let those around you know you are no longer pregnant.)

There were some other situations that transpired allowing me to confirm the miscarriage of the baby. Some very personal and dear to me. Nothing that I feel open to share. Others mere tests that confirmed I had miscarried.

And though I know I do not share the hardness of a miscarrige that is further along, having cared for this little one for almost 7 weeks was enough for me to be connected. I still cry over the loss. I hate knowing that a cabinet full of burp cloths ready to be stored (yes, I still hadn't put them away from use for Zoë) contains a special t-shirt for Zoë that she won't get to wear yet. One that she will never wear for this little life that graced our lives and then said good-bye much sooner than I would have chosen.

My heart hurts.

My arms ache as I miss the life that was supposed to be placed in them this coming November.

I have had many doubts about life after death for unborn children. Really children period. Thankfully, I have come to the place where though I won't have a black-and-white answer this side of Heaven, my God can be trusted. He is loving. He is just. And He never changes. With that in mind, I choose to believe that effects how He handles the soul of a child.

I have struggled with anger at God for taking this life that I was so ready to care for and teach about Him and His love for us.

I have wanted to close myself in for days and hope that I could completely empty my mind.

There have even been moments that I have selfishly wished God would allow me to be taken from this earth, that my time to go home would be now.

This is what I have been facing. And yet as you have seen in the previous posts (if you haven't read them yet, the three posts I linked earlier are what I'm referring to), I am clinging to a God who is unchanging and trustworthy. A God who knows my pain and my sorrow and who is walking beside me through this storm. Though I wish that I could say it was under different circumstances, I am watching my faith deepen before my eyes.

God is good.

Please understand, my ability to continue to believe in God is purely by His amazing grace. I cry at every church service I go to and am barely able to speak the words in all the songs I once so boldly sang. And yet, I know that if I were to leave the service I would be running from the entire situation, really life itself and God.

I am also not saying that God did this to me. Yes, He allowed it to happen, but it may very well have been an attempt of the Enemy to put a stronghold in my life. It could also just be a repurcussion of the choice Adam and Eve made at the beginning of our world (see Genesis 3). I'm not sure which but I am sure of this, God did not look down from Heaven, see Ben and myself preparing for this life and say, "Yep. I'm going to take their baby." This was never His desire when He created the world and so from spending time in the word, I believe that He doesn't choose people to inflict pain on. That is a part of the effects of sin entering the world after Adam and Eve chose to disobey Him.

Know that I am open to questions. I reserve the right to not answer them, but for the most part, I want to be open about this. I know I am not the only one who has faced this struggle as I have heard too many times in the past few weeks "1 in 4 women miscarry". (I now find myself thinking "Yeah, yeah, yeah...blah blah blah. Please. I don't want to hear that...again!) If you don't want to ask it publicly, you may e-mail me. Just click on my contact page. The information is there.

But above everything you may have read on here, I feel I need to end this by saying one more time, if more so for my sake than for yours:

God is good.

On Repeat

I have no words.

I know I keep saying I'm in a tough spot. Well, I am. And I will be sharing eventually, but I have no words. Even for myself.

I find myself slumping onto the couch at the end of the day wanting to do nothing and wishing I could make my mind empty. Void of thoughts. Or at least the ones I have.

Amidst all my sadness, I find Laura Story's song "Blessings" on repeat. It's where I am. It speaks to my heart. And reminds me that God has a plan, a purpose for right where I am.

And I love what she says in her video about the story behind writing this song:

When I Need a Reminder...

A reminder of who my God is, I can go into His word and find it. But sometimes, I need to hear it from someone else. And sometimes it's comforting if that someone else has been put in some place of leadership among those who believe. Someone with passion in their speaking and who speaks seeking to be led by the Spirit.

And right now, I am in great need. Both because of my heart breaking over the Chinese Muslims I have joined with many in prayer for right now and because my heart is in great need of mending.

I have many days I am finding myself sitting on the floor reminding myself of this:

"Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden and I WILL GIVE YOU REST." Matthew 11:28 NASB

"Cease striving and know that I AM GOD..." Psalm 46:10 NASB

"'For I know the plans I have for you [and every other living being],' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.'" Jeremiah 29:11 NASB

*all italics, capitalization, and brackets are mine.*

I keep hearing myself repeat, "He does not fail me. He has not changed. He is in control. And He loves me far more than I can ever completely and full grasp."

Yet, even with all of that, I keep going back to the words of Priscilla Shirer. It's from a video session for the bible study Anointed. Transformed. Redeemed. by Beth Moore, Priscilla Shirer, and Kay Arthur. The leader of the study, when I did it, took the time to type out and print on a 5x7 cardstock these words. And I am happy to say that, though the quality of the actual video is grainy, the word and the passion behind Priscilla's voice are still there.

[*update* so I have been told that the video doesn't always load. Therefore, I give you the direct link just in case!]

I could sit and listen to this reminder all. day. long.

So I thought I would share it with you.

May you have a blessed Monday!

My Heart Feels Empty

I have this nagging, pestering desire.

Write. Just write.

And yet...

what?

This post may come out a little rough. I'm not even sure where I'm headed with all this.

I just have this compulsion within me to hash it out by feeling the keys of the computer move beneath my fingers. I certainly can't hash it out on my own piano. There isn't one. And so graciously, God has given me these keys to feel move beneath my fingers.

They kind of work. They don't make music. Well, not of the tonal kind, with up and down scales and the ability to resolve or build a well of emotion. But they certainly help me "see" my thoughts. Make sense of the muddled mess that is the wheels supposedly turning trying so hard to turn and work in my head.

Life has been rough in these parts.

This hermit is starting to feel the lonliness of moving to a completely, unknown city. One to be discovered yet one not really desired to be discovered. I prefer the comfort of knowing just a few miles. A corner.

Don't get me wrong. I like Houston. I like that there are so many parks and open fields here. I love that the zoo can always seem new just by watching the animals and seeing  the new babies that have been given life on its grounds. And I have met a handful of wonderful people who I would love to get to know better.

But I'm not in my niche.

And not being in my niche can give me a feeling of restlessness. Along with the feeling that my heart is not full. Which in turn finds me thinking I'm not grateful for all the wonderful blessings that I have.

Because though I am not wealthy by the mere numbers of our finances, I am so wealthy in many, countless other ways.

And yet the emptiness seems so overwhelming at this time. I'm sure it has to do with much going on behind that scenes to which I cannot disclose at this time. Will I ever be able to? I'm unsure. (Please understand I am not trying to hide behind a wall of fake pleasantries and "life is all roses".  However, because of the parties involved and decisions of authority over me I am unable to discuss them publicly at this time.)

The emptiness finds me wanting to give up. (I struggle with depression. I'm sure I always will.)

And yet, God is good.

Oh yes! HE. IS. GOOD!!!

He whispers to my seemingly empty heart, "I love you. Cease striving and know that I am God. Come to me. I know you are weary and heavy-laden. But take my yoke on you. I am gentle. I am humble in heart. My yoke is easy. My burden is light. You. are. not. alone! (Psalm 46:20, Matthew 11:28-30)."

Ahhhh.

Those words have become a healing salve I am continually applying to my hurting heart. Made me ever so grateful I began this year with a goal to memorize twenty-four scriptures with Beth Moore and all the other Siestas out there. I didn't know just what I would need those words for, but I knew that if I girded myself with them, they would come in handy. Even if life seemed to be all smooth sailing. (Ha! As if it is ever all smooth sailing. This broken world always has some kind of perceived hiccup waiting to greet you and me.)

Life has not been smooth sailing.

And those words, the ones that seemed slightly significant yet really just some great reminder of the God who cares for me have been whispered over. and over. and over again.

Sometimes in the midst of my begging God to just take me home. (Just being honest here. And if I'm really going to be honest, I find myself "seeing" the brokenness of our world and myself and everyone around me - redundant, but I don't care - on a daily basis which leaves me yearning for my true home and begging for it on a pretty consistent basis. Healthy? Maybe a little but truly something I have to keep in check because it can also steal the joy of knowing that He is weaving my story here as long as I have breath. Just sayin'.) Sometimes in the middle of gut wrenching tears over a plethora of situations. Sometimes in the midst of a hard mommy day where I feel ready to throw in the towel and sit and throw a tanrum with my daughter. (Adult like of me, I know.) Sometimes in the middle of a realization just how corrupt I can be and how much help I am in need of to even achieve possibly one good, compassionate, loving task in a day. (Oh the list could go on. Like I said, we're all broken.)

So my heart feels empty.

And yet, I am learning that empty can only mean one thing: if I let God do as He sees fit, He will fill it with that which can never tarnish or be taken from me. That which no detriment of this life or fleating pleasure can find a way to even somewhat cast shadow on.

And to that I say, may I not let the pain of this world hinder me from pursuing Him.

*This post was literally typed out and posted, aside from scanning to ensure proper grammar. And even that might have some errors. If it's rough, it's because it was for my own cathartic needs. I felt like sharing it with you, just as it came to me.*