Her place in my heart remains, as it always will, a place where I commune with the Giver of all Gifts. Still I thank Him for her life. Still I cherish His gentleness. Still His bottle catches my tears (Psalm 56:8).
Though my heart was wrung and wrenched that chilly November morning, I rejoiced that day. And though pain shoots through it still and often my lap shivers with emptiness, I rejoice again today. Because when I squeezed her little paw for the last time, when I whispered final words in those ears so tuned to my voice, it was not goodbye forever.
No, because memories are alive and the preciousness of a life does not pass when the life itself is gone. Love doesn’t have to fade. The gift is still a gift.
Thank you, Jesus. Your “comforts delight my soul” (Psalm 94:19). You’ve warmed my lonesome lap–filled it with blessings…