Journaling seems redundant lately. Like I only have one thing to say, over and over, but in slightly different ways: I miss my son and I hate that life has to go on without him but God is good. I guess in many ways, that’s true and relevant to this journey. It would be a lie to say that those things aren’t true every second of every day. I do miss my son. I do hate living this life without Him. My God is good anyway. All true. All hard to reckon with. All pieces of my story that are undeniable in shaping not only my faith but how I will experience this life.

Ive been in a bit of a funk lately. I think that between the thanksgiving and Christmas holidays and the rapidity with which February 10th is approaching, I’m all over the place. Our community has welcomed several new babies in recent weeks; some boys, some girls, but all would be peers of sweet George Mason. Each time we gather with Audrey’s little group of friends I get that tingling sadness and grief over what George could and would have had. God has been good in surrounding us with people to do life with. They are raising families along side us. Navigating parenthood and all of the peaks and valleys of that adventure with us. But one of the most precious gifts we’ve been given in these last few years is also one of the most obvious reminders of what we have lost.

It makes me wonder why God kept us here. Then in the very same breath I am deeply relieved to not have had to start completely over. There’s a safety in having everyone around us know and love George Mason. There’s a comfort in that. And even though there will always be hurt linked to knowing And loving on this next round of babies, I’m thankful to know that our sweet son won’t be forgotten. And selfishly that I won’t have to face the reality of sharing our story with complete strangers for a little while longer. George isn’t a name thrown out into oblivion, but instead a name with roots deep in this community. Of course, there will always be people who didn’t know George Mason and who will learn his story (and mine) as they get to know me, but for right now, I consider it a gift to not have to share that grief unless I want to. And until the time comes when I’m in a new place and starting a new community, I won’t take for granted the people who love my son. I will say his name and talk about him as much as feels right and as much as they’ll indulge me.  I will take every ounce of grace bestowed upon me by my loving friends whenever I find myself stuck in a rut. And I will always praise my Lord for his faithfulness in this journey; even when I can only see the pain and the grief, he is there, the ultimate source of joy, radiating through the dark fog and filling my soul in the way only He can.

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. -2 Corinthians 4:6