Today my sweet son would have been 7 months old. That means 7 months without that precious little boy. 7 months since I held him. 7 months since I smelt that addicting new baby smell. 7 months since I felt his last breath on my chest. 7 months since I said hello and goodbye to George Mason. These 7 months, and the several leading up to his day, have been some of the hardest in my entire life. Facing life, this reality of being a mama to a baby boy in heaven, has brought me to my knees in a puddle of tears. I have cried out to my God. I have begged him to tell me why. I have struggled with understanding how a God I know to be caring and loving could have let me son die. I have tried to run away from him. I have run straight to him. I have been all over the map emotionally and spiritually. This has been a trial that I never would have imagined possible and yet here I am; here we are, a family of 4 that is missing it's 4th person.

We have spent the last week running from hurricane Irma, one of the biggest storms in recorded history. She dampened our beach days. She placed us in hours and hours of traffic. She canceled and rearranged our plans multiple times as we found ourselves disappointed and reorganizing our trip. It's been a week of disappointment and frustration. We are thankful to not have been in any real danger, and we find our hearts heavy for the state of Florida and its residents. In a way, it has been a good distraction from the harsh reality of our first family vacation without our son. There is nothing about Irma to be thankful for, but as I sit here today on the 7 month anniversary of my son's day, I realize that this world is broken; so very broken. My son died 7 months ago because this world isn't the way it's supposed to be. There are millions of people today and this week who are facing the total destruction of their homes and the power of this storm is because this world isn't how it's supposed to be. But when I take a minute to breathe and talk to my God, I'm reminded of the many times he tells us it's all going to be ok. That maybe we will never understand why infants die or why hurricanes don't just stay in the ocean, but we can know that God is always working for the good of those who love him.

I've been meditating on Colossians 3:15 the last several days. "And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful." It's so easy in the face of disappointment to be mad or start along the path of woe is me... but when I read those words I really am thankful. I realize I have so much to be thankful for, my son being one of those things. My family will always be missing a piece of its heart, but we serve and love a God who fills that void by giving us his peace. I hope to never forget that. I hope and pray that even as I miss my son I can always be thankful. Because I may have lost my son, but I couldn't have lost him if I'd never had him, and I can't imagine never having him. So today, 7 months since George Mason's day, I'm thankful for him. I'm thankful to have grown him and carried him. I'm thankful for the doctors who cared for him. I'm thankful for the people in our lives who loved him and prayed for him; and ultimately mourned him. I'm thankful to have met him. I'm thankful to have been able to hold him. To have been able to take in all of his features and commit them to memory. I'm not thankful for his death, but I am thankful for the assurance of his salvation. That his life wasn't years of suffering.  I'm thankful that God is someone I know and have continued to pursue. I'm thankful that even on the days that I don't want him, he wants me. Praying the words of Colossians 3 today.

Happy 7 months, George Mason. Mama, Daddy, and Audrey Nole love you so very much.