Five Things — aka Mind Dump

So heeeere’s the thing: My brain is a swirly twirly mess.

If you don’t mind, I am going to use this space to do a little mind-dump. Ready? Go.
Easter happened. I feel like that really describes it. It HAPPENED. I kiiind of feel like it happened TO me, but really for most of the day I was enjoying myself! We went to church the night before with my family, which was nice, and then convinced/forced my Dad to try Thai food for the first time. He was quite apprehensive, as most old people are {HA! Just kidding Dad!}, but then he really wound up liking it. Crispy duck is delicious.

On the day itself, we met up with Glenn’s fam at Sea World which was super fun. Keith-as-I-live-and-breathe and I shared chicken nachos. They were surprisingly delicious. We watched the best brass band ever.


We ended the day with a visit to CLevel – a restaurant with awesome atmosphere and views – and all of a sudden Easter slapped me in the face. I was tired. I was sunburned. I was dehydrated. I was hungry. My head started to hurt. All I could think about was how my baby is in the ground, and I can never see him again. It’s too sad, really. Most days are somewhat manageable, but some days the reality hits, and I become so, so sad.
We are officially members of an infant loss support group. I’m not gonna lie, I never thought we would join {or enjoy!} a support group. I’m all for therapy, but GROUP therapy seems a little weird. I imagined a room filled with “those” people, led by someone with frizzy hair and glasses at the end of his or her nose, their sad eyes peering over the frames. I imagined bizarre questions being asked. Fake intimacy trouncing around from story to story, couple to couple. I am happy to report :: I imagined wrong.

We totally like our infant loss support group!!

We, obviously, wish we and everyone else in the group never had to be in this group to begin with… BUT our specific group is led by our awesome grief counselor at The Elizabeth Hospice, and there is another couple in the group who we really enjoy! Strangely enough, their little girl who died shares Branch’s birthday! It’s nice to have people who are different from us but have gone through something so similar… even having our babies born on the same day!

We have only gone to the group twice now, and enjoyed both times. The first was kind of what I would imagine most first-meetings at groups are, where you introduce yourselves and share a bit about the child you lost, and then there are several topics that come up and Paula, our grief counselor and new best friend, facilitates the conversation. The second time we went we did a craft, which sounds super cheesy but was actually really cool. We made frames and discussed the just-around-the-cornerness of Mother’s Day. I actually am not dreading Mother’s Day, but I am leaning toward not doing any of the “usual” things on the day itself. Last year on Mother’s Day Glenn and I told his family I was pregnant. Eeek. Not sure if I’m ready to see the TimeHop photos pop up for that one…  Again I say eeeeek!

Nevertheless, I am a mother, and I have a great mother AND a great mother-in-law so I am hoping to celebrate them in a unique way this year… just maybe not on Sunday the 11th. Ha!
People are nice. Not all people. Not all the time. But overall, there are lots of nice people out there.

A friend of mine from high school, who has been so sweet to follow our journey, knew we would be at a party together on Saturday and brought us a card and gift. Ridiculously thoughtful!!

One of my girlfriends sends me texts, all the time, asking how my heart is — asking about my grief — asking what my “internal weather” is. And here’s the thing : she MEANS it. She really does want to know! Even the yucky, tragic, never-going-away-until-Jesus-comes-back stuff — she willingly asks me to share my heart with her.

My mentor meets with me on a super regular basis. When I fear I am becoming needy, or that I am not worth her time, she speaks kindness and truth to my soul. She tells me it is an honor to walk with me. She guides me into calmness and prayer :: places where God can reveal Himself to me in such personal and loving ways. She validates my pain, and tells me I am seen.

My beloved friend since the 3rd grade called up two of my best gals and organized a high tea date, in honor of Mother’s Day. In honor of me. It is so kind and generous and thoughtful, I could barely get “thanks” out when she mentioned it.

My Mom sends me encouraging letters every month, to be opened on the 3rd, and they always make me cry.  This month she even sent a pretty scarf! Just because! I look forward to my letters and the reminder that our families are walking this road with us, and missing Branch themselves.

I do not deserve any of these nice things, but I am so grateful for them. And for all of you.
The first Lionheart Half Marathon and 5K has officially been completed. WE. DID. IT.

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If you follow me, or any of our friends here in San Diego, on social media, your feed was probably overrun with pictures of our cute shirts, and inspirational photos of Team Lionheart running and walking and cheering! It was such, such, such a great day! Wow! Things could not have gone better, and I felt such a flood of support it was nuts! Branch, you are one loved little boy!
My hair can now legitimately be put in a ponytail. What’s up.

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Thanks for sticking with me through it all! Mind Dump Complete.


Branch’s Video

Happy Saturday, friends!

Today I want to share Branch’s video with you. It is an 11-minute slideshow Glenn put together for Branch’s memorial service back in December, telling his story of our time with him. It has taken us a while, but it’s finally ready to be shared with the world!

I hope you like it! My favorite part is when we meet Branch in person for the first time. Such cool memories and moments to have on camera.

Branch Movie Official from Glenn Murdock on Vimeo.

Much love,



I have noticed something different in the air lately. Something fresh. Something I haven’t seen for a while.

It came quickly, unexpectedly, kindly.

It came as friends shared their exciting news of expecting a baby.

It came as I watched Mara gracefully receive gifts at a baby shower for her newest addition, all the while honoring Julia’s life and legacy. A baby shower after loss. Wow.

It came in the morning, after a full night’s rest.

It came in a walk along sunset cliffs with a dear soul.

It came in the tears streaming down my face every single day.

It came through laughter with my favorite people. Who knew seven miles could be so much fun?

It came as I held my breath, watching our new friends give birth to, and then say goodbye to, their sweet little girl.

It came around a table, sharing food and drink and love.

It came in the loud moments.

It came in the quiet.

In each little space :: hope came.

The journey of grief does not seem to start with much hope, and I think that’s ok. I think we have to realize the magnitude of our loss. Feel the loneliness. Sit with our sorrow, even though we don’t want to. It seems that is the only way true hope can enter in again. For when we are a big crumpled up mess,  God reaches down and touches us.

And that, my friends, is enough to give me just a little hope today.

Isaiah 40:31
“But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.”

Much love to you all,

P.S. I also wanted to THANK you all for praying for my car/mode of transportation. My car was able to be FIXED, which we originally had no hope of happening!!!! Thank you for caring about and praying for me — even in things like automobiles.

Let’s Make a List!

It’s Wednesday, so I figured today I would make a list. It might be kind of like high/lows. Or maybe just random stuff I have been thinking or doing. Perhaps I will just make a list of things I love about Branch — though I do think that list would be too long to post on the internet. {what’s NOT to love about him?!? he’s the best!!}. At any rate, here we go.

1. I have just about had it with promotional e-mails.

Does ANYONE like getting ten plus e-mails a day, none of them actually written to you, all of them trying to sell you something? I try to unsubscribe but then somehow things keep. on. coming! In my grief-ridden state, my patience is muuuuccchhhh lower than it used to be, so anything that was “on the fence” or “slightly annoying” prior to Branch dying, is now excessively obnoxious and immediately eliminated.  If it’s not careful, the entire internet may get the boot.

2. We spent Sunday afternoon walking/hiking with Kimberly.


Sunshine! Ocean breeze! Torrey Pines is the best! And I can check “6 mile walk” off my half-marathon training list.

3. Thin-crust pizza is delicious.

4. We stayed at the #1 hotel in America.


I don’t know who decides things are #1, but whoever it is named The Grand Del Mar as their favorite place in the US, and boy can I see why. We were gifted a two night stay there earlier this week, and wowzers! Sooooooooooooooooooooo fancy! Beautiful landscaping, gorgeous pools, yummy food, and incredible service made our “getaway” totally extravagant and relaxing. What a treat!!! Thank you thank you thank you for your generosity, my lovely friends. {you know who you are! hi!!!}

The pools at The Grand Del Mar are always warm, so even though it was a little crisp and not exactly pool weather for our stay, we spent time wrapped in towels laying on comfy lounge chairs and reading books and magazines. A neighborhood duck apparently had the same idea, and hopped in for a quick swim.


5. I am not looking forward to Easter.

It’s not even April yet, but it seems like Easter is just around the corner! I don’t usually have anything against Easter — it is, after all, an incredible holiday celebrating Christ’s Resurrection. I honestly just don’t know if I can handle it this year. Holidays are super hard, and I have found that EVERY holiday — even silly ones like Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day — has been more difficult and sad than I had anticipated. I am not planning on avoiding all holidays forever, by any means, but this first year I would just like to take a back seat. To skip anything official. To visit Branch’s grave and drop off little flowers or plants.  To take a trip to Paris and cry with Glenn there. Hey, at least we would be in Paris! I bet tears taste a little less bitter when you’re sipping champagne and eating a baguette under the Eiffel Tower.

6. I am cooking again.

I don’t know if I told you guys, but for a while I didn’t cook. Pretty much for my whole pregnancy, actually, and then for a month or so after Branch. Well, I’m proud to say I’m back at it! Most of my recipes have been simple and Weight Watchers friendly, but it has been fun to plan our meals, grocery shop, and be in the kitchen again.  It has also been a lot easier to eat at home since we are still in hibernation, with no plans of emerging anytime soon!

There’s my list! Hope you all have a lovely Wednesday. And, just for kicks, here is a picture of us with Branch when he was 3 days old. What a cute little muffin!


Much love,

I’m All Over the Place:: Weight Loss, Being Anti-Social, and A Cry for Help

I will start with my cry for help. It isn’t quite as drastic as it sounds, so don’t go calling 911.  It’s about my car :: poor little Camry essentially exploded on Saturday. She has been a lovely little car to me, only requiring the occasional smack of the starter to get up and going. Although we knew she would not last forever, we were planning on her being with us for at least 2 more years. She obviously felt now was her time to leave. If any of you hear of a reliable car being sold for *very* little money, please e-mail me. Stick shift or automatic!

Welp, on to the next update… I’m losing weight!

Remember before Branch was born when I talked about not wanting to have to deal with baby weight when you don’t even get to keep the baby? Yea, it’s pretty much as awful as I thought it would be, except that the grief part is worse. Oh boy! It’s a fun journey I’m on, people, let me tell you.

Even still,  I AM very grateful that I am losing weight. It is not rapid, as healthy weight loss rarely is, but it IS coming off. I am really enjoying my re-entry into the world of Weight Watchers, and find the weekly meetings encouraging and challenging.

Here is my photo for this month. I am going to be comparing each month to the starting point so that I can be encouraged by my progress.  I’m glad I chose the purple yoga pants for these pictures. It adds an element of excitement!

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I have lost 10.2 pounds so far. Hitting the 10 pound mark was super thrilling! We’re in the double-digits here! Yahoo!

In other news, Glenn and I have basically thrown our social life to the wind and turned into hermits. I acknowledge that our interpretation of being a hermit is probably still a more active social life than many of my introverted comrades would ever want, but it sure feels like hibernation to me.  Although I do love spending time with friends, I am really enjoying living in moderate isolation.  I say no to social engagements all the time and have found a new sense of freedom in quiet evenings. It seems to take so much energy just to exist, I have no option but to pull away from everything else.  If you are friends with us and haven’t seen or heard from us in a while, please have patience. Fresh wounds over here!! We are holding on for dear life and who knows when we will emerge! We welcome e-mails, letters, calls, texts, and gifts {I mean really, who doesn’t?!}.  You may never hear back from us, but that doesn’t mean your actions and words were not appreciated.

Glenn and I are learning a lot about losing a child, or more specifically, how to actually SURVIVE and hopefully someday re-enter society after losing a child. What we are experiencing is a rather harsh and brutal reality. It is no fun, but then again it really shouldn’t be. Death is never any fun.

We are surrounded by excellent support :: I jokingly refer to my “grief team” which consists of our grief counselor, my mentor/spiritual director, Glenn, and a few friends — bless them. It is hard to hurt, and I am sure very hard to be a friend to the hurting. The hardest part, it seems, is that in many ways this is just the beginning. As the world goes on around us, as our tragedy is no longer fresh, as friends continue on with their lives … our loss sinks in.  I am grateful for people who do not expect me to “move on” or be more than I can be today. Thank you.

And finally — as I sign off I wanted to share this sweet picture with you as well as a verse. This is an idea I got from our grief counselor earlier today, to continue sharing photos of Branch and add corresponding verses from time to time.

Isaiah 52:7
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!””


If there is anything Branch’s life proclaims, it is the good news of our God who reigns. What a lucky Mom I am to have a son whose life screams of His mercies every day.

Much love,


The Arrival of Spring

“All this earth — could all that is lost ever be found? could a garden come up from this ground at all?” ~Gungor, Beautiful Things

Spring is coming. I can feel it. I can smell it. The fig tree in our  backyard is beginning to bloom with light green leaves.

We have had a particularly hot winter here in San Diego, making for dry days and scratchy throats and extra sweaty attempts at walking or running. Heat is not my favorite. Come to think of it, I really am the ultimate weather brat :: I hate it when it’s hot, and I hate it when it’s cold. 65 degrees is about the perfect temperature for me, sometimes the upper 50’s are ok, sometimes the lower 70’s are ok. Otherwise — I whine. It’s not my best quality, I know.

This spring feels different than any other. There are many “first” we are coming up on since losing Branch.  It’s interesting to think of where we were this time last year compared to this year.

Last spring we found out I was pregnant. This spring we are up to our ears in grief and infant loss books.

Last spring we went to Disneyland just about every other week. This {early} spring we went to DisneyWorld.


Last spring I was working part-time at the University of San Diego. This spring I am going to be working for my brother-in-law at Sea World. {This is kind of fun! He is the director of one of the Sea World summer bands, and I get to help out with non-musical stuff!}

There are so many things that happened in the past year that I never could have imagined. Many of them are sad, like not having sweet Branch with us anymore, but some of them are good.  Watching God use our friends to show His love and grace through the hardest times.  Meeting and spending time with our firstborn son. Learning about loss in a very new way. Noticing our hearts gain empathy and gratitude.  Daring to dream, from time to time, of Branch’s future siblings.

These signs of spring are small, and often must take a back-seat to the hard but holy work of mourning, but they are there. In the midst of the sorrow. In the midst of the hurt. In the midst of the fears, the exhaustion, the hibernating — tiny little leaves break through and remind me that spring is coming.

My verse for the month of March is Hosea 6:3. I hope it speaks to you as it has to me.

“Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge Him. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”

My prayer every day since losing Branch has been that we would see glimmers of hope, be they ever so small, every day. May He continue to reveal Himself, and may we have the eyes, ears, and hearts to hear, see, and feel His goodness in our lives. For He is SO good, even in times of great loss.


Grief — What It Looks Like {Part Two}

This photo was taken three months ago today. Branch was still with us. We were taking him home. We didn’t know how much longer he would hang on. We were living in a bubble of comfort, provision, joy, and looming sorrow.


What is my life like now, three months later? I am writing today to share with you all, because some of you have asked, and also for my future self :: to remember all that these days contained.

I am always sad. Always. It has been helpful to be reminded that three months is still FRESH. It’s ok that life is still a blur. It will likely get worse before it gets better. My soul is raw, and the only salve is tears, kindness, and gentleness.

Meeting new people is hard. I am authentic by nature, sometimes to a fault, which makes it very difficult to navigate conversations with strangers and acquaintances. What do I say? How do I say it? Do I tell them about Branch? Do I pretend I don’t have children? Trying to figure all of this out is quite difficult.

When I see pregnant women, I pray that their baby will be ok.

The act of mourning takes up most of my energy. According to our grief counselor, it is supposed to. There is a reason people of cultures past wore all black, or a band around their arm, or a torn cloak. Losing a child is, quite simply, awful. It is something that will never go away until we get to Heaven. I often find myself wishing we had a daily “symbol” of mourning to put on. Maybe I will bring the black armband back. As a badge of honor, a reminder to have grace with myself, and a warning to those I come in contact with :: in mourning. beware. be gentle.

I long for Heaven. For Christ’s return. For healing and restoration. For all to be made right.

It seems we can not find success. I am sure this is mostly due to our grief, but it seems like we are being thrashed in the waves. I am ready for a “win”. Financially, physically, relationally, emotionally. Anything — can it just be success for once?!

Truth be told, it’s kind of depressing to be me right now.

And yet…

In all of this sorrow, the buckets full of tears, the heart-wrenching agony and coming to grips with the finality of death — I see glimmers of hope every day. I long for the day when there is more hope than there are tears, but that day is not today. It will come, slowly, as I do my part and step out each day.  Actively mourning. Asking God to show up in each space. Remembering and rebuilding.

Our grief counselor introduced me to this quote by Dietrich Bonhoffer, and I absolutely love it. I feel he paints a perfect picture of hope without dismissing the pain, and of remembering the precious life that was lost while we wait to be re-united for Eternity.

“There is nothing that can replace the absence of someone dear to us, and one should not even attempt to do so. One must simply hold out and endure it. At first that sounds very hard, but at the same time it is also a great comfort. For to the extent the emptiness truly remains unfilled one remains connected to the other person through it. It is wrong to say that God fills the emptiness. God in no way fills it but much more leaves it precisely unfilled and thus helps us preserve — even in pain — the authentic relationship. Further more, the more beautiful and full the remembrances, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude transforms the torment of memory into silent joy. One bears what was lovely in the past not as a thorn but as a precious gift deep within, a hidden treasure of which one can always be certain.”

May we be grateful, even in the midsts of our pain, for He is so good.


Branch Lionheart Murdock Fund

Sacred Moments

It is interesting, the things I notice now.  The sun’s rays hit the waves and the whole ocean seems to light up. A smattering of rather plain birds hop around my yard, munching on bugs and grass, chirping sweet songs to one another. The man working the register at Walmart wears latex gloves and scans each item slowly and with care — taking his time to ensure he places similar items in the same bag. Joy comes in little moments now, more than in big waves like it used to.

A few days ago I was driving home, all dressed up from having just spent the afternoon with three of my dearest friends. “The Girls” is what we are called. There are five of us all together, but one lives far away. We are, and have been since we were little, on a continued journey of friendship. Laughter and silliness. Break-ups and marriages. Moving far away and coming home. Searing loss. We learn to love one another through thick and thin. To stand back, show grace, embrace freedom, comfort when one of us falls. I love these women.

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“The Girls” had taken me to high tea as a birthday gift. It was an afternoon of delightful sweets, warm cups filled to the brim, and sweet chit-chat. On the drive home, I felt happy. Beth Moore says “Happiness is inappropriate when it’s our goal, but it’s not inappropriate when it’s God’s momentary gift. Open it. Enjoy it. And remember it when times get tough.”

Happiness. It’s different than joy. It’s different than gratitude. It is, in its own way, sacred.

Monday — the tenth of February — marked two months since Branch passed away. If I am honest I must say the past month was much worse than the first month after he passed. Our grief counselor explains the “steps” of a person in grief as a three-fold process.

First comes shock. It doesn’t matter if you knew death was coming. It doesn’t matter if you thought you were prepared. When a loved one dies, shock sets in. You live in the world of numbness and shock for anywhere from a few days to a few weeks.

Second is disorganization. A scattering of every part of your life. A mess. A place of confusion. A time to re-evaluate, to pull away, to spend more time alone. I call this “hibernating.” As the days, weeks, months go on, you begin to put some of the pieces back together. To re-structure, re-enter, re-invest. Piece by piece, moment by moment, your life takes shape again. It is a new life, a different life, often a better life.

This brings us to the third and final step : growth. We have all heard of post-traumatic stress disorder, which I must say sounds absolutely awful, but our counselor calls this phase of grief “post-traumatic growth.” I love this. Glenn loves it even more. {if you have ever had a conversation with us about family values, you know “growth” is #1.} The growth can not be rushed. It can not be forced. It stems from the depths of your heart.  It will, I hope, embody the love, the life, the value and importance each living being on this earth has — things I have learned through the great love God gave us in giving us Branch. Post-traumatic growth.

I am, and probably will be for a while, living in the disorganization phase. Things are very confusing. I am easily overwhelmed. I need a lot of time alone. Slowly, I am putting some of the pieces together.

I started to tell you about the tenth of February — the two month anniversary of Branch’s death. Glenn was out of town, and I had been exceedingly productive around the house, which made me feel really good about myself. I was missing Branch a great deal, and found that he would pop into my thoughts even more than he normally does. I decided it might be nice to stop by his grave and spend a few moments there, praying and crying and whatever else I felt like doing. After visiting the grave, my plan was to go on a quick hike and then meet up with two of my beloved friends, whose husbands were out of town with mine. As I told them, via text, of my plan, they entered in. They said they wanted to come. They rushed out of the house, threw their kids in the car, drove in awful traffic, followed the Spirit’s prompting.

Driving to the cemetery, I felt happy.

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Sacred moments. They do not come often, but that makes them even more precious. My prayer for this week is that I give my heart to God every day. That I allow Him to continue to mend my wounds. That I do not miss the places, be they filled with sorrow or joy, where He is showing up.

from Isaiah 61
“He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted….to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion – to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called Oaks of Righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendor.”

May we sit in the kindness of the King today.


Happy One-Month, Branch!

Today, and actually this EXACT moment (1:23pm PST) marks one month since we met sweet Branch. In honor of this, I will share a letter I wrote him and read at his Celebration of Life service. It should be noted that I am sharing this on the blog primarily because our pastor, Matt, suggested it. I figured I should listen to him, he’s usually pretty wise. 

Friday, December 20th, 2013

Dear Branch,

I don’t really want to write this letter because it’s acknowledging out loud, to all these people, that you are gone. I miss you more than I ever thought imaginable. A longing only a mother could have for her sweet child. You gave me that, you know — motherhood. Before you I only imagined or heard stories of what a mother’s love was like. Now I can grasp it. My love for you is deep, it is whole, it is unique and for you alone. You opened a place in my heart that no one else could. I love having you there.

Branch, I am so proud of you. I want ONLY good things for you. I want you to know just how special you are. I want you to know there is nothing you could do to make me love you less.

Every time I would look at you, and even now when I see your picture — my heart is filled with such joy and gratitude. God chose ME to be your Mom. He created you to be held in my belly, in my arms, in my heart. He is so good.

Branch, I wish you were still here. That my heart and soul didn’t have to ache. That we could watch you smile and laugh and play. I don’t know exactly how Heaven works, but I do know that you are in the best hands you could possibly be in. I know God’s love for you is greater even than mine. I know He is holding you in my place, and He is holding me and your dad while we move through our lives here on earth. I hope you know me when I get to the other side. I hope it all becomes clear. I hope we smile and laugh and play – all together, all at Jesus’ feet.

Until then, I hope God gives you a big kiss on your cheek every day. That He tells you how loved you were here on earth. That you had a mommy and daddy who wanted the very best for you, and that your life helped make the world better.

I love you Branch.

Your Mom


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Saying Goodbye to 2013

As I sit down to write this post, I find myself somewhat emotional. I don’t even have a subject or title for the post yet, but somehow, thinking about sharing a little bit of whatever it is that is going on inside of me, makes me teary.

Today is Tuesday. Branch was born on a Tuesday. Branch died on a Tuesday. I am not necessarily anti-Tuesday’s. I haven’t felt any sort of attachment or detachment to them, but sometimes when I realize it’s Tuesday, it’s just a reminder of all that has happened in the past few weeks.

Few weeks. Isn’t that weird? It has only been a few weeks. I had surgery. I met the sweetest little baby boy I could ever imagine. I held that little boy as he died. We cried in ways we have never cried before, from a place that was deeper than we had formerly known, for we had lost more than we ever thought possible. We picked out a plot of land to bury our little baby. We planned a Celebration of Life service. We decorated our Christmas tree. We celebrated the holidays with our families, wondering why we didn’t feel as happy as everyone around us, then remembering it had only been a few weeks.

As 2013 comes to an end I both joyfully welcome in a new year and tearfully say goodbye to this one. 2013 was filled with great loss, but it was also filled with great joy. With life. With promises. With celebration. With kindness.

I wrote a post earlier this year about my calendar and monthly verses, and promised to share December’s.

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This is my prayer as we enter the new year. That we would not be afraid. That the glory of the LORD would shine around us. That we would live in a way that is pleasing to God, in a way that represents the good news and the GREAT joy that God Himself sent down in His own little baby. A little baby  who was blameless and pure, sent to earth to die, so that all people have the opportunity to live.  May I never forget all He has done for me.

Happy New Year to all of you lovely, lovely readers.


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