The days move along.
Time has no respect for the heart.
Maybe it was designed that way.
The beat steady.
10 months of a cadence that is unfamiliar.
A longing each day for what can not be.
Reaching deep for strength.
The earth a glow with spring color.
Matchless in it's wonder.
A palette stretched with colors unimaginable.
The magnitude of loss so great; it mars the beauty.
So I work.
I step to see.
I remember when you were 10 months.
Ready to walk.
Red hair; thick.
But it's your hands I remember most.
I would sit night after night and hold them.
I wonder if my spirit knew. . .
They were big and chubby at that time.
And I would dream of all you would become.
Would your hands be gentle like your daddy's?
Full of love and years of work.
Would they make music?
Nights of wondering.
Now the nights have ended.
The wondering over.
You are in the presence of the Holy and Mighty.
Your music sweet and hands that have touched the glory of the Most High.
Each day dawns.
Time pressing onward.
Reminders all around.
Seeking the only solace that will comfort.
Won't you step out today?
No matter the heartache, joy or situation.
Gaze at the wonder around.
Step into praise.
Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!
Serve the Lord with gladness!
Come into his presence with singing!
Know that the Lord, he is God!
It is he who made us, and we are his;[a]
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving,
and his courts with praise!
Give thanks to him; bless his name!
For the Lord is good;
his steadfast love endures forever,
and his faithfulness to all generations.