Her long blonde hair, feathered on top, stopped just past her collarbone. A ring on our left hand peeked out and caught the light in one of the pictures.
She had desperately wanted to wear jewelry for the pictures, “the real stuff,” she had said. So, I slipped a ring off of my own finger and placed it on hers. It was the engagement ring her father gave me when we were first married. I had received another ring only a couple of years later so it was no big deal to let her wear the old one. Oh, but to her, it was something. She kept staring at it and when the camera flashed she made sure that the ring was clearly visible.
I woke the following morning to the sound of muffled crying. As a mom, you rarely sleep deeply, always on the alert for some strange sound, some warning sign. Your guard is rarely allowed to go down. And, after yesterday, mine may never again. I stood, walked quickly through the kitchen, and made a left into Amy and Jennifer’s room. Amy was still asleep. Oh to be four years old and still able to sleep anywhere, anytime, and through anything.
On the other side of the room, Jennifer was curled on her side facing the wall. Her shoulders were gently shaking from the sobs she was now trying to silence.
When tragedy threatens to steal her first born Lynn finds herself reliving every disappointment, every heartache, every loss, and every layer of guilt from her past. Pain upon pain twists its way around her heart leaving little room for anything but the bitter taste of anger and hate. But God isn’t done. He has hope, miracles and redemption in store. If only she dare see it.