Tuesday, January 26, 2010

My floors are sleeping

The house is resting now. All the floors have a chance to breathe after

the little ones have laid down their tired bones.

The many hours spent running the halls have now given way to silence.

Their laughter now in dreams and their energy storing up for tomorrow.

Always loudness I seem to hear.

The quietness startles me somehow.

My thoughts are going from room to room, knowing who is where and glad they're

all here under my roof.

I go from one to the other and breathe in their sweet fragrance
and whisper the same
thankful prayer over each.
" I'm thankful Lord you brought Ellie into our life."
"I'm thankful Lord you let us raise Chandler."
The names go on until they've all been lifted up to my Father
and my thankfulness spoken.
Then my memories drift
to the little ones who are not with me
and I think of William.

William is lifted up as a sacrifice, given freely to Him now some
10 months later.
My child does not need my prayers anymore
but I give them anyway, as a way of showing honor to my little son whom I miss.

The girls fill such a huge hole
but his presence is forever etched in my heart.
That little boy who changed my life.
His resting place is still my favorite spot these days.
The kids have erected a small fort over his wooden cross
and I let them because I knew he would love it.
I know he would never miss the chance to play swords with his brothers
if he was here.
So the swords are sticks and they are covering his cross.
He is missed and
Chandler's prayers still hark heavens door on his behalf.
Cullen still cries when he talks about baby Willy and I can't help but to wonder what that little rascal would be doing if he were here now.

It's still a walk of faith, but it's a walk I make much more up right these days.
It is true that you grow more from the hard times and I grew when I lost my William
but sometimes I just want to remember who I was before I lost him
and I can't remember that person anymore.
I truly see others pain in a whole new light and I'm drawn to
help. I guess that's what our hard times are supposed to do.
Draw us from ourselves to others.

Just like my floors have scars from the endless amount of

traffic, my heart will carry the tiny boy named

William around forever ... to remind me......

The seasons of Life....


Family Stone said...

Wow. There's no comment I could leave that would explain how my heart swelled, ached, and broke all through that beautiful post.

I smile to think of the future generations of Whites sitting down to read what you have written.

kathy @ Teaching Good Things said...


Anonymous said...

I love you, Robin. And I love Baby William.

Anonymous said...

So beautiful.


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