If only I could share one more moment with her.

Make one more memory

Have one more hug.

These are the broken thoughts rolling around in my mind this week.

The missing just feels so strong.

Every beat of my heart echoes her name.

I see the laughter of her sisters and wish she was here to share in it.

The radio plays a song I know she would have loved.

A meal she would have enjoyed.

A outfit she would have worn.

The missing is like a scent that is following me everywhere.

A fragrance flowing on the wind straight to my heart.

We needed more time,

I wasn’t ready for you to go.

We had so much left to share.

It’s hard to let go of the could have beens, the should have beens,

To accept that there is no more.

Maybe after 6 years I should be ready to let go.

But no the scent still lingers on.

Her essence is still tied to my soul,

She is the missing piece of my heart

Beating in heaven.


Joining in with Five minute Friday. This weeks word was Share, pop over and read some more fantastic posts.

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It’s the button I always think twice about pressing.

Double checking before I allow my words to flow out over the air.

Am I sure I have written what I mean?

Will my words cause offence?

Do others really understand?

You see words have an impact even when we don’t wish them to.

To be truthful even the words we don’t write can hurt someone’s heart.

The forgotten thank you’s, missing wishes and so many more.

So when we press send are we sure our words have been written in truth.

Not full of anger or lies.

It’s a scary place now the internet everything published can never be fully lost.

That status written in anger.

That comment full of jealousy.

There are no take backs or do overs.

Hurtful words can only be forgiven not forgotten.

hurtful words

The send button should be our final frontier.

The barrier at which we call ourselves in check.

Will our words lift another?

Will they comfort an aching heart

Bring a smile to a sad face,

Make one feel less alone?

Will they update family and friends or engage in a fun conversation?

If not maybe we shouldn’t hit send

Our words are our responsibility

Let’s use them wisely.



A word out of your mouth may seem of no account, but it can accomplish nearly anything—or destroy it!

(‭James‬ ‭3‬:‭3-5‬ MSG)


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My word for 2015

I feel I may be cheating a little with my word of the year as I have actually chosen words, with another here over on my other blog.

Yet after struggling to find one at all I was surprised when a second fell into my thoughts.

It’s not easy finding a word that holds all your heart and thoughts within it, but I do honestly feel that this word is perfect for this new year.


Peace, what  a beautiful word.

Within the five letters it holds so many meanings.

Its hope,

Its tranquility

It’s what we all crave.

So this year PEACE is something I am going to be praying hard for.

Peace for the world, for wars to end, the hungry to be fed and for hearts to heal.

I want to hear stories of unity not separation.

Laughter not sadness.

I want every life to matter, regardless of colour, gender or religion.

I want hopes and dreams to be for all.

Safety, security, normality.

I pray for peace for my friends, those that are grieving.

I want peace on the hearts of those fighting health battles, peace and strength to aid them as they overcome.

I pray for peace for my friends those whose daily lives involve constant battles fighting for the health and wellbeing  of their disabled children.

For wisdom and understanding on policy makers, government officials. Let their focus be on people not budgets.

And for me personally I want peace on my heart.

I want to win the battle against anxiety.

Letting go of the cannot’s and believing in the can do’s.

I want peace on my past, to allow my heart to heal.

So yes I think Peace is the perfect word for 2015.

I want PEACE in the hearts of all.

11 Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you.

2 Corinthians 13:11

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Dear Grief

Dear Grief

For six longs years I have known your name.  

I cannot say we have become friends because friendship should never feel like this.

I’m not sure how I feel about you, 

Are you honour or are you just pain?


You twist around my chest pulling tight until i can barely breathe. 

It’s as if with every twist you are reminding me of my beautiful daughter. 

Honestly dear grief I could never forget.


You are there in the deep ache of my soul,

The missing beat of my heart.

You are the empty place at my table,

The missing smile from my photographs.


From the moment I awake to the second I fall asleep you come to visit.

You often invade my dreams torturing me with broken promises. 

Livvy comes so close only to just fall out of my reach.


How do I describe you Dear grief?

I think I know you so well but honestly I don’t know you at all.

You throw the hardest curveball i know, spinning my heart on a axis.

Unprepared, unexpected.

You shoot arrows straight to my heart, with shots Robin hood would be proud of.

Breaking my soul, my resolve, piece by piece.


So do I describe you as pain?

Aching torture?

I truly don’t know.

You have me twisting and turning with indecision.

I feel as if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, 

Ready to fall into the abyss of missing.


So are you really pain or are you love?

A love that is eternal.

Are you simply the missing of beautiful Livvy?

The ache so deep that only she can fill.

Are you here to honour her?




Dear Grief, I do not know the answers.

All i know for sure is that you and I will spend a lifetime together.

That you will always be in every beat of my heart.

In my every breathe.

We are entwined until that precious moment.

That wondrous promised moment

When my arms will hold her again.

Then I will say goodbye.

Farewell dear grief

Hello my Olivia.



*This was written to link up with Kate Motaung and her link up Letters to grief. Kate has published a ebook and today over at Amazon you can purchase it for 77p. I have read this book with tears flowing down my face. It is truly beautiful and so worth a read.


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The season is in full bloom, trees are up and decorations a plenty.

People running around fetching the last of their gifts prepping for the Christmas dinner.

Excitement is edged with exhaustion.

Children cant wait for Santa, adults for a few days rest.

All in expectation

All full of anticipation

How did Mary feel this time all those years ago?

Was she full of anticipation or pure exhaustion.

She must of known her time was near.

What was she expecting?

Was she afraid?

I connect deeply with Mary, the strength to trust when trusting isn’t easy.

To live in hope.

I often think of that day that changed her life.

The day she said yes.

Mary was the beginning of a love story.

Yet not in the tradition sense.

From humble beginnings a king was born.

From a manager to cross.

A life of miracles and truth

To a death full of pain and lies.

Then on

To a resurrection full of hope.

Full of promise.

Christmas is a season of anticipation.

One brimming with joy.

Yet beyond the tinsel and mulled wine let us remember the true meaning of this season.

The true reason for the celebration.

The birth of Jesus

The hope for the world.


Joining in with Five Minute Friday
Over with Kate Motaung


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When loving hurts.

Why did I have to sit and listen to my child tell me she wishes she didn’t care so much.

That she hates having an open heart.

Listen to her talk about closing off, not caring.

When did society change so much?

Why does walking over someone to reach your goals seem part of life?

When did caring for our own needs come before caring for others?

When did kindness start to feel like a crime?

My heart is aching for my daughter, I’m trying hard to tell her that being who she is, is perfectly ok.

That being compassionate and caring is something to be proud of not ashamed.

That the world needs more people like her in it.


Still her tender heart is aching.

The callous words of others forming lesions on her heart.

“It’s to hard mom”

“It’s making me sad”

“I can’t take much more”

Are not words you ever wish to fall from your child’s mouth.

My children have faced so much in their short lives.

Attended a funeral of their own sister.

Tended the grave of one they love.

They know pain.

Yet through all the heartbreak their open hearts have continued to grow.

So why is my daughter sobbing her head in my lap.

I feel her tears on my jeans.

And why should I hear the words

“I don’t want to care anymore” from her mouth.

Compassion is a gift not a curse.

Yet right now her battered heart doesn’t feel this way.


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Dear Santa

These words are falling from the mouths of children across the world.

Being scrawled across pages and pages of brightly coloured, snowman, decorated paper.

In the lines of their list the children offer their wishes and wants for that special day.

The innocent of the season not lost on the pay check of the parent.

We wish and pray too, as we strive to be that fictional man with his long white beard and his red jingly hat.

Yet our hopes aren’t lifted from the pages of a toy catalogue but wrapped up in the smiles of our precious children.

We want hope to be the greatest gift we can give to them.

The knowledge that dreams can come true and the world is truly a special place.

Yet our hope isn’t to be found in the bag that bounces on the back of the sleigh.

Our hope was born in that dirty manger surrounded by straw and oxen.

From the virgin birth and the courage of a Jewish maiden.

Our hope came announced by a celestial choir filling the heavens with glory.

The innocence of youth allows us to look at the sparkly wrapped presents and to sing the carols at the Christingle services.

Celebrating the birth of baby Jesus.

Yet this was only when hope started to bloom.

Yes in that stable birth the light started to shine.

But it was on that cross that hope was given to the world.

No burden to our bank account or no debts to be paid.

On that cross he paid them all.

The sins we have wracked up before and those that will follow the slate is wiped clean.

So Dear Santa thank you for the smiles and the memories that you create for our children.

But it’s to Jesus we really pray our children hearts will turn.

Looking beyond the glitz of the moment to the eternity of truth.

Dear Jesus

Thank you for the greatest of all gifts.

It didn’t come wrapped up with a ribbon but with a headdress of thorns.

It didn’t come with a matching bow but with nail pierced hands.

It’s not the must have toy of the season.

It’s the gift of a lifetime and beyond.

It’s the gift of always in his Endless Grace

The promise of forever in our heavenly fathers love.


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What would I give to see you again, to hold your sweet hand once more in mine.

What would I give to sit there with you now at the feet of Jesus.

To know no more pain or loss.

To feel safe and loved in his arms.

My sweet baby what I would give?


It is in the promise that I find my hope.

That one day.

Yes one day we will be reunited.

All that we have been promised will be our truth.


This is how I face the days without you my baby girl.

Knowing that although you are out of my reach you are in his.

That you now feel no pain or no constrictions.

You are free my dear one.


Yet what would I give for one more day.

To look upon my daughters and see four not three.

To look into your sisters eyes and see joy not pain.

To see you daddy smile completely once again.

Oh what would i give.


Yet our saviour he gave.

He gave all that he had, all that he was.

On that cross he died to free us all.

His hands nailed to the cross.

He gave us truth.

He showed us true love.

What could I give?

What could compare?

To all that Jesus has given.


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More than I can handle

Sometimes I read a blog post that makes me shout and scream with joy.

The words just reach deep into my heart and stir my spirit.

Today this post by the beautiful Kirsten Welch did just that.

“God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” is a saying that has a tore at my soul for years.

I have often wondered where in the bible this came from as I had never found this promise.

In fact as Kirsten states quite the opposite is told to us.

We are told we will suffer.

As I learned the news of my daughters diagnoses I cried out against the untruth.

God I cannot handle this.

As I found out about the lifelong nature of my illness. I prayed

God I cannot handle this.

When I lost my beautiful daughter I screamed at heaven

God I cannot handle this.

The lies of this untruth strangled me to the point of succumbing.

It was then I heard Gods promise.

33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16.33 NIV

The bible tells us of many who suffered, tortured, crucified.

Yet this world does not have the victory.

Jesus overcame this world.

We have the promise of eternity.

We have Gods promise.

revelation 21;4


I still cry out to the Lord of the pain and suffering I witness in this world.

From the girl whose childhood is robbed.

To the man lost to drugs.

From the empty arms of a grieving mother.

To the man the beheaded for his faith.

I will cry out.

But in the midst of devastation we remember the resurrection.

And the truth

“I have overcome the world”

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For the last few weeks I feel as if I’ve been a journey.

A journey with no real directions.

Its not that I have felt lost, just not really sure where I am going.

I often wonder if anyone really understands my mind.

If anyone really gets me.

I found myself saying to my kids one day that I could just walk out and no one would notice.

It felt as if it didn’t matter if I was there anymore.

I  then found myself thinking about Jesus and how rejected he was, how jeered and ignored he must have felt.

Yet all he offered was love.

Even when Judas betrayed him, he loved.

Sometimes being a mom is like that.

You try to do your best but you feel like the world is against you, well you kids thats for sure.

Trying to be the best wife you can but feeling ignored.

I don’t compare parenting or marriage to Jesus but loving on when you feel rejected is hard.

How easy it would be to just give up.

Choose not to care.

Pretend to not bother.

Not notice.

But you can’t because being a wife meaning working on your promise.

Being a parent is loving unconditionally

Just like Jesus always does for us.

We mess up.
We ignore him

Yet he always loves us.

So right now when I am feeling a little directionless,

I will follow him and hope that someday soon I will find my way.


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