Lord, I need Your grace...

Heavenly Father,

Sometimes I don't know what to do with the sad memories, but You do.

I remember the desolation of looking up at Olivia's hospital room window as I left to go home for the evening. I remember weak cries and sweaty foreheads as my babies struggled to breathe. I remember limbs and muscles as limp as noodles. I remember the sound of the cough assist machine and the whooshing sound from Nicholas' BiPAP mask when it came loose. I remember how that mask made his little nose red and raw, too.

I remember standing helpless as a "medical 25" was called for Nicholas in the middle of the night - his tiny body surrounded by medical professionals trying to keep him alive. I remember when my babies would get too uncomfortable to be held. I remember asking for more and more morphine when Olivia was declining and in distress. I remember having to authorize and carry an "advanced care directive" (a "DNR") and a letter for the Medical Examiner & funeral home in case Olivia passed away outside of the hospital.

Oh Lord, I need Your grace...I don't know what to do with the sad memories, but You do. These are things that should not be part of a parent's experience, but You have promised to make beauty of my ashes, to turn my mourning into dancing, to give me double for my former trouble. Father, how grateful I am that I do not have to carry the burden of these memories on my own. I am trusting you to come and be my God of all comfort.