The sky was so beautifully blue today. Greta and I ran our barefoot feet through the thick green grass in our front yard. It wasn't too chilly or too hot. It was the kind of day that usually would make you desperately yearn to sit outside all day long, just soaking up the sun's warm rays and attempting to master the the art of doing nothing.

I want to forget today. Because all the blue skies in the world can't make me forget the most sobering experience of my life. Today I saw a baby in a casket.

She was dressed in a pristine white baptism gown and matching bonnet. Tucked in the casket with her were her Glo-Worm and a small pewter cross. The things that once comforted her were now useless.

Our friends, Doug and Gena, lost their precious daughter, Kendall on Thursday last week, just four days short of her five-month birthday. Kendall's older sister, Ryann, is sure to be wondering where she is in the upcoming days. Kendall's twin sister, Quinn, has always been a part of a pair and now she is just one. I cannot imagine feeling so empty and incomplete.

Those are my thoughts and feelings. Shattered, in bits and parts. I can pick up the pieces. I only wish for the same for Kendall's sweet broken family. I'm afraid it's impossible.

Oh, my heart aches for them.

I told Doug she looked pretty. I told Gena I didn't know what to say.

She looked so beautiful.
So perfect.
Like an angel.
That's what she is.