Crimson ~ The color of the blood that was spilt at the cross for our sins.
Red ~ My little boys red hair, his beloved baseball cap and his favorite color.
My daughters hair has lightened to a golden but the Irish attitude still farcie and tender burn within their hearts.
Hope ~ It keeps me getting up in the mornings. Putting one foot in front of the other. Hope is what keeps my eyes focused up, always up.
* Hebrews 6:19 We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.
* Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
Writing use to be an inessential part of who I was. That was before grief stole it away. In a single moment it was as if my past, present and future were shattered into a million unidentifiable pieces. Through prayer and tears the words returned. They were like an old friend. I was so excited about the reunion I could not wait to put pen to paper but the panic attacks and shaking returned. I began to think the words were a mistake … that was a lie. They were a gift and gifts are meant to be shared not tucked away in a forgotten book on a dark shelf (*1 Peter 4:10 As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace.) My fingers are steady on the key board so I will give this a try. As nervous as I am this is me grateful, honest and sharing. I pray this space is used to bring Him glory (*1 Corinthians 10:31 So, whatever you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.)