Touching God in dark places

This is a repost, slightly edited though.



We're trying to for a third baby again . . . or, as Mr. Hall says:

"Game on!"

For us, first came the love, then came the marriage, then came the baby in the baby carriage.

And make no mistake, there is no love like married love. Living together doesn’t even come close. At least not for us. Then there is the love I have for him- because he made me pregnant. Our babies grew inside my belly because of him. There are no words for this. Just paroxysms of joy and permeated bliss.

Which I find myself feeling, over and over again, in the dark. We turned off the lights and we crawl into bed, feeling the warmth of the burgundy comforter. We nuzzle and spoon in our cherry wood sleigh bed. Our babies snoozing sleepily across the hall. Babies we birthed. All of us here, home.

In the dark, during these nights, I feel whole and full of God’s grace. I feel the swirling energy emanating from inside and outside our bodies. In the dark, when we are bound round each other, smooshed and warm, I feel touched by the hand of God. I feel the miracle of our marriage. A miracle we've been blessed with.

And maybe, just maybe, before next month, we will be blessed with yet another miracle still.