We had a fun night tonight. We went to Brad and Sarah's house and had a cook out with numerous people from church. We have made such great friends since we moved to Grand Rapids a little over 3 years ago. Looking back, I don't know how we would have made it through the last three years without the support, prayer and love of our church family. There was a little girl there tonight whose name is Ava. Crazy thing is- they are the family that rent our past house from us while it is for sale. She stays in the bedroom where our little Ava stayed. Two Ava's, one room.
Josh and I play this sick little game of what we would give to get back to July 31, 2005. This is the day before Ava died. This game also includes Josh not being hurt. We realize that we would give up any earthly possession to get back the life we had then. Funny thing is, we're not given this choice. Nothing I can do or say can make time turn back. The other "funny" thing is, I'm not sure I'd go back if it meant having to be the person I was then. I'm not sure I'd recognize who I was then, nor really like her. I was much more concerned with what people thought, especially what they thought of me. I now am mainly concerned with what God thinks of me. Who am I really out to please? Did all of this happen so that God could make me more like his Son? I surely don't like the situation I'm in, but I am trying to trust God, knowing he knows best.
Thank you for all your responses in regards to my feeling depressed. Yes, I realize meds can be a huge help. Yes, I realize exercise is a huge release. As of right now, I am working at them both. I take the kids to the YMCA 5 mornings a week to work off some stress. It works well with our schedule. I take off while Josh's caretaker is getting him ready for the day. I get home right about when he is getting out of our bedroom; just in time to share a cup of coffee together. Please continue to pray for me. I do not want to be a discouragement to my family or friends. I just want to feel some normal... I long for normalcy.
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