An Unexpected Journey

It was just a few weeks ago. Tears falling down.   She doesn’t think she can do this. Walk down that aisle. To lay her baby to rest. And I remember. Her hands trembling. She can’t get her earrings in. Family steps in to help. It can’t be real. And I remember.  She can’t get to the front. It may as well be miles. Heavy feet pushing forward against all that is right. They have to hold her arms. And I remember. Songs echo across empty dreams. The words attempt to hug her heart. They try to breathe out hope and covering. But she can’t stop shaking. And I remember. The day no mother ever wants to open her eyes to. Because your child’s eyes won’t. Just keep taking the next breath I say to her. In and out right now. And I remember. I also remember the first inkling of hope. The first time I heard God again. The first time I prayed again. The first time I stepped in church again. The first time I opened my bible again. I remember the two lines on the pregnancy test. The biggest surprise ever.