Hello, God. It's me, Mara.

You know, Lord, Jonna, shared a story her friend, Sally, told her, which happened a few years back, at the birth of Sally's third baby, when she'd lost her newly born baby girl. It was a cold autumn day when they stood at the graveside service of baby Shenna.

Sally recalled the large pine tree that shadowed the open grave which looked like a wound in the ground. Her dad was there, holding firstborn Gary, then only four years old. Little 18-month-old MaryJo wriggled in her grandma's arms, trying to reach the flowers.

Time passed by. Sally and Dale prayed for and with their two little ones. That first night, Gary knelt, folded his arms, prayed: "Dear Heavenly Father, bless Mamma, Dad, MaryJo and Grandpa and Grandma." He stopped, looked at me with big solemn eyes, then continued, "Bless the new baby, too, so she won't cry in her grave."

Sally continued. "As I tucked him into bed, his face was serious, I told Gary, 'Your little sister isn't in the grave sweetheart, it's only her body.' Then I remembered an analogy I'd heard in church and said, 'The baby's body is like a glove. Without your hand in it, a glove is just a piece of cloth. It can't move or do anything, just like the baby's body is now. But when you put your hand into the glove, it can move and do things. Your hand is like the baby's soul, the real baby. The body we buried is just the glove, without anything to make it wiggle. Our baby is in heaven with God and Jesus.' Gary smiled, yawned, laid back on his pillow ...

"Suddenly the truth unfolded for me. I kissed Gary, the grief for the baby hadn't diminished; I still mourned, but somehow, I felt better and thanked God that He had already given me His comfort in the form of the two angels He let me keep, Gary and MaryJo."

Love Mara