Sitting at her grave

I sit here at my daughter's grave and the sun is shining. There's a slight breeze. It's lovely. You can tell it's rained recently, as the grass is wet, as is the bare ground where 2 day old twins were buried just days ago. 

Another parent arrives and for the first time ever, a short conversation takes place. Just a few words are spoken and then we leave each other to our thoughts. I like seeing other parents there. It makes their precious babies more real to me. 
Marco, Sibella, Hope, Ava. 
Four little babes whose relatives I have seen. 

People sometimes ask me how often I come to her grave. The answer? Often. I drive past the cemetery almost daily, as it's on a road I travel on frequently, so I pop in a few times a week. I love arriving to see flowers that people have placed there, and I actually find it a peaceful place. In one direction are the hills, a constant reminder to me that my help comes from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and earth (Psalm 121). In the opposite direction is the ocean. I love water. Ariella was born in water. It always has a calming effect on me. 

Next to Ariella's section are some of the war graves. I like that. I know that Ariella isn't really in the grave, that it's just her body and her spirit is in Heaven. But I like the idea that brave men are near her, almost as if they are guarding her and the other babies.

I'm sitting by her grave and the sun is shining, the birds are singing.

I'm sitting by her grave, and I feel at peace.

God is good. His love is deeper still.