and she tries not to cry


Each night as he goes to sleep, i go to hold his hand. I stroke his head. I pray over him. I know God hears me. He’s just a little baby boy. 4 years old. I watch him sleep. I know he is at peace. I know that there are no headaches, weird body movements, struggles, or pain. I know that he knows you are there with him God. He is blessed with your presence. His peace is complete. More complete than mine because he is innocent. He doesn’t have the burden of understanding. You have power over his body and illness. I trust that. As well as your greater plan. It is a struggle within me. I know you will never leave him nor forsake him. He is your child. I know that you love him. He is more your son than mine. I’m down on my knees right now praying for your help here. I waste my days worrying and tired. But I know you know that.

I hold his hand and cry. I wish death in the short-term weren’t such a possibility. I pray you can make him feel ok tomorrow. He is not just anyone “mark shultz” “he’s my son” God he needs you. “let him live this world without fear” “let him know that you are there” He is dying by the doctors predictions. It’s a pronunciation i can not accept. He is meant for greater things. I know this in my hearts of hearts. I would gladly take his place. Lord, hear me tonight….

Love, Faith


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