Miracle

Her sleepy head fits in my palm. Tiny fingers curl open and closed. Little dimples vanish on sight. Her fragile newborn cry breaks my heart. Every time.

You can’t bottle up beautiful moments like this. There are far too many—the bottle will burst, just like the welled-up love inside. Grace upon grace.

All praise and glory be to God!

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
The fruit of the womb is a reward.” Psalm 127:3