The text came through and I just stared at it.

What? Why? How? When?

I swallowed hard and gripped the phone with both hands as if I could squeeze the words away and let them not be true.

How much more, Lord? How much more bad news can we take?

Sitting in my bed with computer sprawled across my lap, my daughter walks into the bedroom.

Mom, what’s wrong?? She worriedly asks.

Tears streaming down my face and looking like a hot mess, I told her I was just going through some old blog posts from our family blog.

Dating back from 2008, I was re-living the stories I had written. Children so small. Me, so much younger. Life just so…..different.

Why do you do this to yourself? She inquisitively asks me.

I think hard on that question before answering.

A couple of week ago, I frantically looked for some sheets of paper. How hard could it be to find some paper around this house? Goodness gracious.

Making up my bed just minutes before, a thought came to me. Earlier this year, I had read in our bible reading plan the story of Hezekiah.

Really, I had not thought much of him until tucking in my white sheets neatly under my mattress that morning.

Ahh, finally, I found some paper.

I grabbed a pen and scribbled prayers on individual sheets of paper. My handwriting barely legible.