And now I know.

I call it my 10 Most Wanted.

A list of people I pray for every day.

Some have a relationship with God but aren't active in their pursuit; others aren't sure what to believe.

Over the last few months, my prayer has been that I would be able to share my faith in a real way with each of them.

This happens, and people on that list are praying that haven't prayed in years.

And now I know.



It looks pretty healthy in this picture, the tree in the corner.

Obviously, this picture was taken before we moved in. The yard looks pristine without all my kids ride-on toys scattered about.

Josh loathes the red and blue Little Tikes plastic swing set structure that calls the grassy area home.

We were told when we moved here that the tree needed removal. The leaves came in sparser and sparser each Spring.

To those of you that know me, it won't sound odd that I got attached to that poor old tree.

I am the girl who feels a tiny bit of sadness when each goldfish dies. I refuse to flush them down the toilet, even when they are clearly dead.

I long to nurse the sick back to life; give chance to something everyone else sees as broken.

I came home one afternoon to find the corner completely bare.

Josh was loading up the branches onto our burn pile.

"Why didn't you ask me whether or not it was okay to cut down that tree?" I asked.

Okay, it was more of a pissed off accusation.

"Honey, it was dying. It had to be cut down."

I think he was surprised that I cared so much about that stupid, dead tree.

"Fine, but you are replacing it." I demanded.

That was last year, and the corner has stood bare as we contemplated what to plant in that spot.

Six friends I have worked with for the last few years through MiniMe BabyGear sent a beautiful Magnolia tree to celebrate and honor this sweet life.

A tree meant for that spot and as a daily reminder of how caring and thoughtful our community is.

And now I know.

I mentioned previously that my friend lost her daughter, Hannah, a few years ago to anecephaly.

Being a small traveler on her road marked with suffering, I gained insight into the loss of a child. For the first time since being a mother myself, I ached with despair over her empty arms. Visiting her in the hospital moments after their daughter passed, I experienced a level of anguish I hadn't known existed.

I remember leaving their apartment a few days later, seeing the beautiful photos of their daughter, and wondering how in the world they ever would muddle through that depth of grief.

They handled it so gracefully, when all I wanted to do was scream for them.

Fast forward one year.

I watched one of my best friends go through the loss of her infant daughter.

Her post on the subject sums up my thoughts entirely.

Advance two years, and here we are.

And now I know.

"A person who lives in faith must proceed on incomplete evidence, trusting in advance what will only make sense in reverse."
Philip Yancey

This is the struggle, though, isn't it?

Today marks 20 weeks. Halfway there, for most pregnant folks.

Perspective changes when given a 50-50 shot at making it to 25 weeks.

Every night, I thank God for one more day. One more day to love this baby and feel it kick. One more day to hear a heartbeat and find new foods that will make it wiggle. One more day towards the goal of 25 weeks, and trying to aggressively inflate underdeveloped lungs after birth.

My prayer request for today is for faith. Sometimes it comes easy; other days I fight all day long to remain hopeful.

Thank you, as always, for traveling this journey with us.