Genevieve C. West

I keep picturing a Christmas present wrapped in festive paper and bright ribbon sitting under a Christmas tree, a constant reminder that the person the gift was meant for will not be here to open it.  But moving it seems unacceptable.  Moving it would be admitting that they're really gone. Soon, if the family can even bear to celebrate Christmas at all, that gift will be the only one left under the tree. And when it comes time for the sad task of putting the decorations away and taking down the tree, that family will have to decide the fate of that unclaimed gift.  Whenever I put my kids to bed, I picture an empty bed in Connecticut where a child should be, and the deep anguish of parents who will never have a bed time routine with their little one again.  I wish I could turn my heart off. I am literally unable to stop thinking about all of this loss. I feel too deeply empathetic and it breaks my heart daily.  I keep thinking of what's ahead for all the familie

I've been in a funk for a few months. I call it a "funk" because I don't like to use the "D" word. Admitting that I've been "depressed" feels like a heavy, ill-fitting label. I try to make myself better. I try to distract myself with things that might take the edge off - friends, church, my favorite novels, my husband. But my friends have disappointed me. Attempts at church have been a disaster. My novels eventually come to an end. My husband can't be everything I need him to be. Nothing can fully satisfy this missing piece in my soul because I know it's a God-shaped hole. No other puzzle piece will fit quite right. But I can't seem to locate this missing piece yet.  Until then, I will have faith. "If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me." -Jeremiah 29:13