Eight-Seven

It’s etched in my memory as eight-seven: August 7th. It’s today. It’s here.

August 7

This photo will always be August 7th to me. I remember it so vividly. It reminds me of the good that was in that day–no matter how tough. As the time goes by, the memories begin to turn to the people that rallied around us. My memory always jumps ahead to the promise I was given. Oh, how I hope I have the words to share it someday.

Last year, I talked a little about the days approaching the seventh. Grief is such a strange beast. It comes in all shapes and sizes; it doesn’t always come with a warning. We can watch and wait for days on a calendar, and it will sneak up somewhere else.

I pray today that those who are hurting will lean into Jesus and will also have friends and family come alongside them to walk through it with them. I’ll never forget those first phone calls I made where prayers were prayed through phone lines and tears.

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