I buried my daughter yesterday. There was beauty all around. The trees that lined the road on the drive there were bursting with colors. Brilliant oranges, majestic reds, and glowing yellows painted the scenery around us with brushstrokes from God. The sky was crystal clear and the light of the sun warmed my heart with the love of God. There was beauty all around.

As we drove to the cemetery, I realized something- there is so much more I need to be praying for. Yesterday it was our turn. But today will be someone else's turn. And tomorrow, and the next day. I made it through on the wings of prayers lifted up by those who care, some I have never met. I thought about the others, the tomorrows, the next days. Those people need just as many prayers to get them through. Just as much strength to find the peace in the middle of the agony. Another lesson my daughter has taught me: there are so many prayers waiting to be prayed.

Though we were the first ones to arrive, I was the last to get out of the car. How do you do that. I kept thinking a mother should never have to bury her child. Yet at times they do. And this was my time. To share in the sorrow of the blessed mother. To embrace her suffering in order to be surrounded by her strength and gentleness and compassion. And so in tears I walked what seemed like miles (but only about 50 feet) from my car to my daughters burial place. Her tiny casket lay there, the purest white, and I sat down. 

What happened next I could not tell you. Father said some prayers and blessings. All I knew was the wind was blowing. Sweet wind across my face as if the Holy Spirit was whispering I am here. As if Jesus was saying here is the peace to get through this. And so while there were tears, God filled the emptiness inside with His grace.

Ok. So they should really give you an instruction manual on what to do, because after the service was over, my hubby and I had no idea what to do. Family was coming up to us for hugs and kind words. All I could do was mumble thank you and then turn to my husband in tears pleading "make them go away". A few minutes later and we were headed towards the car, our family lagging behind us. But where do you go after something like that? Truthfully, there was only one place my husband and I wanted to be: with Jesus.

So on our way to pick up our daughter from the babysitters(she is still too young to have to go through something like that) we stopped in the adoration chapel at our church. A few minutes after I sat down the thought came to me of how fitting it was that I ended up here on this day. Way back in July when we found out that there were problems, the first place I went to was this chapel. And here I was, four months later in the same chapel finishing what had been started earlier. But really, I have been in that chapel all along. Maybe not physically, but mentally and emotionally. Every step I have taken since July has been with Him, because of Him. Every breath, every tear, every smile, it has all been Him.

And so one more day of this journey has ended. yet I am faced with a thousand more.  I know there are still tears to come (I already proved that this morning!) I know there are still impossible days to come.  I also know that there is indestructible love that surrounds me. I know that my husband and I can get through anything, as long as we are together(did I mention I have the most amazing husband anyone could ever imagine?) I know that there are incredible people who lift me up. And I know that my daughter is praying for her mommy. 

I buried my daughter yesterday. But I was not alone.