Then I get a text from a good friend asking for prayer, she just had a miscarriage. "Oh no, God. Not again. They have already been through so much. Why can't she just keep this baby? You know how badly they want one!"
And I look at my not even two week old, perfect, fourth child in my lap. And realize that it doesn't matter the size of our house. Or how clean it isn't. I don't know why I have been given these sweet babies, while she has lost so many. I know I am not any better or more loved by God. It makes me feel guilty sometimes, though I know she doesn't want me to feel that way. Words seem so inadequate to help her.
I try to keep a positive attitude and count my blessing, and think I mostly do a good job, but sometimes get in sorry for myself moods... But then it all gets put back in perspective.
I had intended to post about having a new baby in the house. :) I will try to do that soon.