Here it is again - "that day".

The day that our daughter Sarah entered and left this world.

It's her eighth birthday.

Eight years. Our hearts should somehow hurt less this year - right? This will be the year that light bulbs pop on, and we'll exclaim in the glow of new comprehension "A-ha! That was the plan all along!"

But there are no bright lights.
When this day dawns I feel grey and empty. I want to bake cupcakes with sunshine icing, hang streamers, and sing, sing, sing......because surely even all of heaven can't celebrate Sarah the way we would.

So what to do with this day?

Today I'll bake those cupcakes - not for our daughter, but for a little neighbor girl who's celebrating 5 years of living here with her family. And being a small part of their celebration will place a spark in my heart.

Today we'll pull out 'Sarah's Box' and rummage through pictures and tiny clothes and hold the plaster casts of her little hands and feet. Big brother and sisters will tell the little brothers about her and that day. We'll recall many loving friends - and strangers - who prayed for us and walked with us when it seemed we couldn't do those things for ourselves. We'll remember the tremendous love of our family who bravely faced heartbreak with us and the peace that permeated all of that terrible day as God himself held us together.

The reality of all that love can't help but cause our hearts to glow.

And when we look at the sun, the shadows fall behind us.

Happy Birthday, Sarah Hope.....