Addy's Azalea
My mother died in March. She was 95. My seventh grandchild died after only 12 weeks in my daughter's womb. Some would say the life of neither one had much value. My mother had overstayed the usual life expectancy and my grandchild never drew a breath outside of her mother. No matter at what stage of life this woman and great- grandchild were, they both were valued by our family and by God. My husband and I had just returned from my mother's house after spending 5 days. While we were there he studied for a class while I sorted through the many books that had been squirreled away in the attic and other places in the house. I knew Jessica was not feeling well and I hoped that by now she was feeling better. Not long after we came home, Jessica came to tell us the news. No matter how strongly the baby's heart had beat a week before, it was beating no longer. After 12 weeks the pregnancy had clearly ended. They were both heart broken and her dad comforted them in a fatherly and...