To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heavenA time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weepTo everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heavenA time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones togetherTo everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
I’ve always loved that song, as performed by The Byrds, adapted from the book of Ecclesiastes.
It’s all over. My womb is empty. Tonight, I buried the fragments beneath these stones. I thought it might bring some closure, but for now, all I have is tears. Tomorrow will be a new day.
Don’t cry, Mommy, says my sweet little boy. Don’t cry, Mommy. It’s okay, Mommy. How can a child so young have such beautiful compassion? There is much to learn from the beauty and innocence of children.
To my lost loves.
Angel. I never gave you a chance. Please forgive me.
Grace. You knew I wasn’t ready, and you saved me.
Hannah and Max. Sweet twins, you rekindled my hope.
Harmony. How my heart shattered for you.
Chance. How I don’t want to say goodbye.
Though your moments of life were fleeting, I loved you all. You are all a part of me, forever embedded in my heart. I will always love you.
