Keeping it close to the chest

Every time Nate and I get to venture back to, as Nate puts it, "God's country." I feel like I am in the middle of some country song where the singer reminisces about first kisses, first cigarettes, and killing a deer (not that Nate does). Nate loves to tell me about every "land mark" we pass. I get to hear the same stories over and over and try to give him a grin or a little, "Oh yeah? That happened here? I haven't heard that 100 times before." But between you and me I love seeing his eyes light up when he starts thinking about the past.
Do you ever feel that way? That there are memories you just can't seem to get out of your head? They are brought back to life so quickly through a sight, a word, a smell...
I have been reminded almost every day the past week about our past year with the boys. This past Sunday at church we had a great prayer service during which we prayed for a sweet lady who has cancer. Our Pastor called forward women in the church to gather and pray for her. So I went forward. He then called for anyone who needed healing for themselves or some one close to them to come forward. I then looked up to see the hundreds of people standing symbolically at the altar of the Lord. The man who led us in the prayer prayed for healing but with the understanding of God's sovereignty and faithfulness regardless of the outcome.
Every once in a while I get the chance to meet via email or blogs other mom's who have babies with TTTS. I am so grateful that I get to talk with them. Even if through the only encouragement of sharing my faith in the Lord. In all honesty I was at a complete peace during that traumatic ordeal. I was confidant in knowing that God had Blake and Owen's days numbered - whether or not those days were to only be lived inside of me. I was confidant that God had formed them perfectly (Ps 139) and there was no mistake. I was also confidant there was nothing I could do except accept what God had planned for these little guys lives.
A year ago this month my sweet grandad passed away after a 9 month battle with lung cancer. It was odd being pregnant while at a funeral. Life was gone before me and growing inside of me. However, the most ironic part came a lot later when the boys were sick. God chose to heal the boys, but not my grandad. Why - I don't know. Why - I don't even know if I have the right to ask. Who am I to question how God decides when a persons days here are done. All I know is that while standing at a casket of a man I adored and laying in a hospital bed waiting to see if there were still heart beats...I felt a peace that could only come from the Lord.
My peace was in knowing who God says He is. He is the beginning and the end. He is the author of our faith. He is the great physician. He is our beloved. He is the lover of our soul. He is...
I will take on the risk of sounding like an old country song...reminiscing on my past. If it keeps me close to who God is. I will keep it close to the chest because during that time He kept me close to His.