She knew enough not to ask if she could come over. When i threw open the door to let her in, the sun burst into my dark space and made me blink. She stood pretty and fresh on my doorstep. She clutched a bouquet of flowers in her hands and her dress just barely poked out around the tiny bump on her abdomen that whispered the little life growing there.
i don't think she said anything.
Her brown eyes filled and she wrapped her arms around me - i was still gross with stringy hair in my pajamas but i grabbed her too - and then we cried.
Just two women in our thirties.
Crying on a doorstep.
She knew how much that Tiny baby meant to me. She knew how much i would have wanted to mother this little one - and she knew that this loss would sting - because she knows just how much i love children.
i was barely 6 weeks along with Tiny.
And i hate - knowing that her little one was destined to leave too even after she valiantly bore weeks of debilitating morning sickness and rejoiced as she left her first trimester behind her and carried her little one well into her second... i despair sometimes at the fragility and the delicate, temporary nature of created life. My mama heart croons to the babies that i never got to mother - and to the mothers who never got to keep their babies too...
And the Comforter comes.
Swiftly - like a wind that will open a door and slam it against it's frame - and then gently as the air swirls around us. He comes completely - as He leaves no corner of our hearts untouched. He comes mercifully - as we yearn for Him in the night.
Oh Comforter... come.