Times have been so troubled lately that out of it I've begun to search for moments of normalcy - moments that most would deem boring, but now I see as joy. We take for granted those quiet unassuming happenings where a child runs into your arms or an elderly father says, "I'm doing pretty good for an old fella!" No more. Maybe it's my age. Maybe it's having been confronted with way too much heartache in such a short period. But, out of the heartache God has taught me to watch for the joy.

I have folders in my email that keep me somewhat organized. You know really know me may take a moment to laugh - I'll understand. The OE folders are alphabetized and I receive emails to all but one fairly regularly. The one that stays the same is entitled "Ana."

Seven years ago this April I helped deliver our sweet baby Ana. No matter how hard I prayed, "breathe, baby! breath!" she never took a breath. She exited her mother's womb warm, but no matter how lovingly we all held her, her tiny body grew cold. That is agony.

Ana never leaves my thoughts completely but with all the other stuff going on I become distracted. At least, until moments like tonight when I mean to click on the "art" folder and instead click on "Ana." That's where I find myself lost in sorrow as I read my oldest son's emails so excited about becoming a daddy. That's where I view sonograms. And, that's where I read the funeral service prepared by Ana's own granddaddy. Our Ana. What I would give to hold her in my arms and have her breathe.