Picture of my soul....

For 13 months I have been unable to look at pictures of Webb I wasn't used to seeing everyday. Of course, I have several in frames in my house and in my office and in my parents' house that I see all the time. But then there is also this giant box of all these pictures I have not looked at in so long. Pictures of the twins' birth, right up through a week before Webb died. I finally opened the box. I looked at hundreds of pictures of my boys and remembered those days. I thought I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Webb and Whit because they were SO identical - especially when they were younger. But I could. I could tell which one was Whit and which one was Webb in every single picture. And it filled my heart to see that baby, in a way I couldn't even describe. I had been avoiding looking at the pictures because I was afraid I would feel such pain because those days are long gone. And there were little stabs to the heart as I looked through the pictures. But I mostly felt peace. And love. And looking at those cheeks, those eyes, that dimple, that smile, reminded me how happy he was. Right until the end. I was able to tell myself he was not in pain and believe it. I looked at pictures of myself and in ways I was barely recognizable. Did my face used to be that round? Did my eyes really sparkle like that? Was my brow smooth then, not furrowed? I have changed, inside and out. I am not that girl anymore. And although that makes me sad, I know that I have grown, and I know that I have an insight I never had before, and although I would trade all that for Webb, I cannot, so I must accept this new reality that is my life. I closed the box and cried. Cried for me, for Webb, for Zac, Bo and Whit. I wondered again why we are on this path and why the roads are not straight for us. I wondered why, 13 months later, we still have so many challenges, so many obstacles to face. I do not know the answers. I do not know why some people move through life without one bad thing ever happening to them and why others cannot catch a break. But I don't think God causes those circumstances anymore. In fact, I know He doesn't. God didn't promise us that being good meant life would be good. But He does promise to be there when the bad comes. And He is. He is here. But to quote Mother Theresa: "I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much."