Seven

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Seven years ago, our world changed. Seven years ago, our first daughter was born from my womb directly into heaven.

Seven. Has it really been that long? It seems like the blink of an eye. Yet it seems like forever ago.

Seven means I can't really call Susie my "baby" anymore.

My prayer is that I live differently because of my loss. Not with an air of grief about me, but that I live life purposefully, with no regrets. This was hammered home two years ago when my dear friend lost her short battle with cancer.


To live life with purpose. To be intentional. To love without question. To serve without asking for anything in return. To be the person that God wants me to be. And to live each day knowing that this world is not my home.

When the petty, bothersome things of life rise up, I want to remember that they are nothing but a vapor in the grand scheme of things. That they pass quickly compared to the eternity that we'll spend with God.

I asked Ladybug (our four year old daughter) how she wanted to celebrate her sister's birthday. She said she wanted to write her sister a note and send it to heaven. So today, we will release a balloon with Ladybug's note attached. Our prayers will rise up with that balloon, prayers that God will help us live with purpose and without regrets.

Remember the story of the woman who wanted to be buried with a fork in her hand? She said at church dinners, someone always says, "Keep your fork." And she knew that meant that something delicious was waiting. Being buried with a fork in her hand was to be a reminder that death means that something better is waiting for us.

I hold onto this hope. The hope for a glorious reunion. Not only with my child, but with my Lord.

Keep your fork; the best is yet to come.