important.

Sometimes when I hold her she faces away from me.  As her head jerks in a back and forth motion against my frail chest bone I steady it with my hand.  Lately as the tears have fallen and she hears my wails; quietly at first and then growing louder-she laughs.  Sometimes it's a beautiful break from the reality swarming my heart and sometimes it's haunting reminder of the neurotic brain disease that is ravaging her body while the rest of the world is still busily carrying on around me.  

I have avoided sitting here and writing.  

These keys have had to feel the presence of my heartache one too many times and truthfully the words are just not adequate enough for the emotions this time.  But today in this quiet house I said out loud to myself, "I must write."

I want to write about and focus on the beautiful curve of Mabel's eyebrows.  When I look down over her head as she is trying so desperately to drink I watch the details of her face as it shifts and contorts.  I steady her body and all the while I look at her eyebrows.  They are deep and dark.  They are thick and full.  

They remind me of everything inside of me that yearns for more than this earthly place.

I want to write about Nora and how scared she was at the dentist this week when she saw the gold crown that would now take the place of a back baby tooth.  I held her as she sobbed in my arms and said "I don't want to do this.  I just want to go home."  I held her closer as I thought the exact same thing.  My little girl is not unaware of heartache and although she doesn't speak of it often, I felt it resonate with her in the dentist chair that day.  We held each other close and I focused on her breathing.  She felt safe and I knew my purpose.  

I want to write about Braden and how when he sleeps he breathes so loud that the reassurance of life overtakes me.  I used to loathe the sound of his breathing in the dark of night.  It was distracting and seemed aggressive.  Now I listen and I silently thank God that I can audibly hear the air being put into and taken out of his body.

Life.  Life.  Life.

Because I have had to go to places in my spirit that most people will never have to, I have been given a true gift.  A sound mind that is directly connected to the Savior.  My personal God.  There is an intimate connection that is constantly carrying me through.

As I held Mabel today and felt her tiny body against my longing gasps, I purposed myself to refocus.  Her little life is fleeting.  And the greatest gift is the knowing that comes with that.  There are moments when I can't catch my breath and the floor beneath me is cold with isolation but her heart is beating against mine and I remember that as a mother I have a purpose.  I have a responsibility. 

I held her closely today and I decided that I was going to write.

These things that, for today [and truly every day] are most important.  

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express."

Romans 8:26