This gratitude post is more than a month old. I never hit the publish button because it felt very mine, very much mine alone.
Sometimes we speak of things and lose it? Or is that silly?
Even though I know I can't lose his love, sometimes I still travel down roads of past and know I don't deserve it.
It's still dark outside. Morning is just beginning to stream down.
He's already up.
He comes back and lies down next to me. Right in the little space on my left with the large expanse of king empty on my right.
He holds me and I cry. I sit up I lie down I sit up I lie down and I ramble and I worry.
He lets me and tells me the same words he has said over and over lately, It's gonna be alright, Rie.
He listens and then prays what I need.
And all my thousand gifts I'm listing beside us on the nightstand.
But him I can't list. I can't count this kind of love. I can't give it a number or a place.
Because it just is, and I'll never understand why me.
My gratitude list continues . . .
friends to watch him at the park
small iv needles
resurrection eggs
ticked off mornings with no backlash
loving texts and emails
once again bringing extra chairs in
forgiveness and forgiving
Craig's reminder - in small things or great
a daughter's servant heart
small iv needles
resurrection eggs
ticked off mornings with no backlash
loving texts and emails
once again bringing extra chairs in
forgiveness and forgiving
Craig's reminder - in small things or great
a daughter's servant heart
My list, #'s 641-649.
