Rise and Swine

One writes me - her heart aches as she looks into the precious face of her injured child only to see marks of imperfection... A friend sobs - Her marriage broken.  Desperately grasping at pieces but her dreams are shattered... A father, filled with regret - still too fearful...too proud... to open his heart and restore the relationship with his son... A mother, weeps for the baby ripped from her womb...now cradled within the dirt.  Another kisses her child's coffin after he pushed a shotgun to his head... I listen...I weep...no words.  Wounds.  Deep, bleeding wounds. In time they will become scars. ALL humanity has been broken. Some carry scars on the outside, others are imprinted upon the heart.  They're ugly.  We hide them the best we can.  Why?  Why do we hide behind a phony mask - pretend they don't exist?  Why do we view the scars of life as something bad?  Perhaps, we think they show weakness...failure. We want perf...

With a family of seven there are many debates.  Each member having their own personality and opinions.  So you can imagine what occurred when it was time to choose a name for our new little one.  After many months of discussion the list was narrowed down...just in time! Once again we all piled into the cramped room with great anticipation.  Immediately the doctors began checking for all the things they were unable to see last time.  They had some concerns with the last ultrasound: The baby was measuring unusually small and many organs were not visible.  The weeks that followed had also brought some concern with my blood pressure dropping dangerously low and a few other complications.  Honestly, the last few weeks have been a challenge.  I was worried.  Fearful.  Trying to trust God...but not doing well.  I was reminded by a wise man that such things are beyond my control.  I cannot add one moment to this baby's life....