SARAH'S ROOM

Sarah's bed that her grandpa made, with the same Psalm as her headstone.

I wrote this poem as I was remembering the time I spent at my sisters for the funeral...my sorrow was so deep and writing seemed to be the only                                           thing  I could do

SARAH'S ROOM *******

I remember how I felt that day in Sarah's room; while her mommy sorted through toys; it was so quiet, no sound of childs play with                                               it's joys I was overwhelmed with emotions yet trying to be strong.  I sat on the floor among her things not knowing what to do, tears came to my eyes when I picked up Sarah's little pink shoe, my sister assured me that to cry was not wrong Sarah's room had a poem I wrote  when she was born hanging on her door.  Her room was decorated with loving care in pink and white, when I walked in I knew it had never felt this empty before. To watch as my sister picked Sarah's favorite things to bury with her, what will go, what will stay..my heart broke that day; heaven had never felt so far away Sarah's little bed was so sad to see, it was white with lambs and a Psalm made by her loving grandpa..and now would remain empty as would her room and her parents arms.  The Lord alone helped my sister stay calm. As we left her room, I knew Sarah's mommy and daddy would have to later go back, how heartbreaking to fold little cloths and ''remembering when'', someday all of it having to pack.  The only hope I could see was that in Heaven they will see Sarah again

Sarah now has no need for her room, for Jesus had prepared a place for her in Heaven

2/1/98 6:30 a.m.

PSLAM 23 FROM A FRIEND