6 months ago, today, our precious little man entered this world. He stole our hearts. His life was a miracle. His first cry was a miracle. His working fingers and toes were a miracle. Every breath he took in his 16 hours was its own miracle. Not a day goes by that I don't recognize that gift. We prayed and prayed to be able to meet our son, and we did. We snuggled him, kissed him, examined and committed to memory all of his features. George Mason made us a family of 4 and even though he left this earth way too soon, I will forever be grateful for his life.

This last 6 months has not been without its dark days. There have been ugly cries and short tempers. There have been many moments spent pleading with God for answers.  Wondering how the God I know to be kind, caring, and good, could allow this to happen. But for every minute of darkness, God has provided an equally matched light. He has never failed to meet me, or Adam, in the darkest of places and shine his light into that place so that we might praise him even in the midst of this sorrow. Every minute of every day, God is working in us and through us. He is taking all of brokenness we are experiencing and he is revealing more intimate parts of his character to us through it. And goodness... God is pretty awesome.

It's hard to believe it's been 6 months since I held my baby. It really does feel like yesterday. Audrey is talking about him less often now too, which is weird. I thought I would be relieved when she stopped bringing him up so many times each day, but I'm sad to not hear his name as much. She was one of he few people that met him. That was something I sort of figured we would always share... but her toddler mind is only capable of so much at a time and right now it's learning how to jump. That leaves less room for grieving her brother; for now.

There doesn't seem to be the right words to describe today. Or even this year really. Just a whole bunch of mumbo jumbo in my brain and equally as many blubbering mess conversations with God. He knows I miss my son. It's comforting (and horrible that it's true) to know He knows exactly what I'm feeling.  It's comforting to know he doesn't need me to be coherent when I talk to him. So today I'm going to choose to be thankful for the 10th day of every month. It's a day that I will always remember my George Mason. I will thank God for him. I will celebrate him. I will rest in the assurance of his salvation. One half year closer to my eternity, and one half year from the day I met my son. It's odd how time can be so healing and yet so devastating at the very same time.

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen. - 1 Peter 5:10