
Brooksie, when I got you out of bed on your second birthday, I whispered. It was 6:30 and your brother was asleep next door; the neighbors were asleep downstairs. I hate worrying about noise. I wanted to bust in with a guitar and serenade you. (If only I could play.) I wanted to shout to the world that once you weren’t here and now you are! Once you were a thought, a conversation between your dad and me. You were a secret inside God’s mind. I wanted to shout that two years ago you came … [Read more...]
























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