Meeting Grace Oh poets of the ages lend to me a your muse, your lines and pen. For heart and hand of mine do fail to tell the depth of heart's travail. Just now I kissed a tiny head while two wee feet slipped back in bed and wondered I how the words I speak restore his world to rest and peace. I ask as tears began to swell why Lord should I be blessed so well while other hearts are torn in two for their child's breaths were far too few. Why should I have warmth and joy from lasses two and laughing boy? How bear I my dear garden three when Grace no more abounds for these? No words can I as mortal write to vanquish such a darkened night. My best attempts would all seem vain and naught but deeper grief attain. Now deeply to my God I sigh And even He may not tell why, But in His heart I lay my head and with me now great tears He sheds. For even though He knows your pain He also knows 'tis not the same. For He is great and Mighty King and we are fragile mortal things. So holds He us, as we pound his chest and comforts saying "I do know best" and yet grants each of us our leave to cry and vent and so to grieve. He knows our hearts and loves us so. He feels our grief and holds us close. He gives us time for tears to fall and pledges He'll be there through all. And as for me, my words so frail pour from my heart, yet seem so pale. My true hope rests in the days foretold and of meeting Grace on streets of gold. -George --------------- I created this image and poem tonight in honor of a very special family in England who just lost their precious newborn daughter, Grace. I cannot imagine what they are feeling right now and can only offer this woefully inadequate memorial to express my heartfelt sympathy. May God wrap his arms around you and carry you lovingly through this deep valley. Vue 4; Background photo from my precious friend, Diane (rainbows). Grace was the daughter of Diane's Niece. Begging forgiveness, a list of other credits seems inappropriate here.