An Unexpected Journey

It is a warm October day near the beach.  The little antique shops are hot and stuffy.  We are weaving in and out of the doors in search of treasure and a little ocean breeze.  Scanning the old down town I am beginning to doubt that we will find an ice cream shop around here.  Makiah is three.  I give her hand a gentle squeeze as we stroll.  She smiles at me and chatters on about the mermaid toy she has seen in the last gift shop.  One more store and we will head out.  We step through the creaking door and peer around at the antiques.  I am about to slip back out when the bright white catches my eye.  It is a soft, white baby gown that is extra long and trimmed with delicate lace.  It would be perfect for a baby dedication... if only I were pregnant or had a baby to dedicate!  I glance at the price tag.  Only $10!  This would be really expensive new.  Makiah thinks it is "sooo pretty!"  I can't resist....

I have mostly put away Makiah’s toys, but the doll house her daddy and I made her from a special, old cabinet that once belonged to her great grandmother still sits in Maddie Grace’s closet.   It has pretty glass doors that close across the front embracing the scene inside. I carefully tied the silver handles together with ribbon when she left us, and some things deep inside were tied up that day, too.   Every little piece of her tiny house sits just the way she left it the last time she cleaned up her room.   I don’t intend to keep it locked away forever.   But I just haven’t been ready to open it up.   It takes time to unlock a house.   And a heart.   Today I accidentally left the closet door open.   The dainty glass doors don’t cover the attic of the little house.   Sometimes we forget to lock ourselves all away.   We leave a piece exposed and vulnerable.   Sometimes someone notices it like my Abby who never misses ANYTHI...

Because some of you are wondering.   Because maybe you find yourself in a prison of one sort or another.   Because my breath prayer is that it will bring Him glory. Because I want to thank those of you who prayed! The Hearing The courtroom is small but it feels full.   The raspy voice of the judge reverberates through the tense air.   It all seems so surreal, as if I am not really the mother of the dead child waiting my turn to speak to the one who killed her.   My hands are clammy and there is a lump in my throat.   I am not at all sure I can do this.    Maybe I won’t.   God, help me to be brave!   It is time to stand up and move to the front.   Up in front of where the lawyers sit they lead us.   We stand and face him.   Not ten feet away.   The grandmothers speak first.   I am nauseous.   I hate to speak in front of people.    I hate confrontation.   I hate that this is my st...