Today is the National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. 

Please know that if you have lost a baby, or have grieved the loss of another's child, you are not alone.
It is a suffering far too common, despite the silence that surrounds us.

I lost my John last year, and the pain was something to which I can hardly give words.
Other children, while not from my womb, have also been lost and grieved. Agnes, Joseph. And more.

To those who have walked this path, I offer you my sorrow, my compassion.
I wish every person could be spared this pain.
 
I will never forget the gift, however brief, these children were and will remain to be.

Things here have been good. I've been steadily expanding (now to 3rd trimester!) and the babe appears healthy and strong. I've been nostalgic and more, knowing we leave Germany in the Spring. Everything about Europe seems even more magical in that light. It has certainly been a fabulous adventure.

Edward has been busy and more, and the girls began school anew in September, but we still managed to squeeze in quite a bit of travel before that. 
 
​I hope to still go back and share some of those trips with you. For now though, I will start with Malta.

Edward has been fascinated with Malta for years, enamored with both its history (its place in WWII as well as the Knights of Malta) and strong Catholicism. He told me he wanted to retire there, and as neither of us had ever even stepped foot onto the little island, I was less than enthused…

​Now? Ha.
Now, we have been three times since coming here in 2014.
I doubt it would take much enticing to get me to pack my bags and enroll in language classes.

​Previously, we have stayed in Valletta, the old castle city, but this time we opted for a beach vacation down in Marsaskala. Our little rental apartment turned out to be perfect. We were easily a 6-7-minute walk to the water, in the shadow of a Catholic church, and close to restaurants and produce stands.
​Every day we strolled down to the ocean, and every day I felt peace ease back into my bones.

Clare's birthday fell during the trip and we decided to celebrate with a boat day. The lady would live on a boat if given her way. Needless to say, she was ecstatic.
We packed up food, rented a vessel, and took to the seas. We toured about the coast, snorkeling and swimming through the various areas that intrigued us. This was easily my favorite day. The water was clear, the fish were abundant, and somehow none of us burned under the generous rays.
​Sun, sea, smiles. Gorgeous. 

Another day, Edward drove us (British style on the left side of the road, with stick shift for the left hand!) to the Blue Lagoon. We swam and played in the clear, deep water. It was glorious. Edward even jumped in from the cliffs while Clare peeked over the side nervously. We picnicked and lounged, content to the core.

And now, returning to Germany, I’ve been washed in thanksgiving.
​I had needed time with my family, I had needed relaxation in the ocean, but even more, I had needed spiritual hunger again. I’d been drying up it seems. 

Years ago, on my first trip to Malta, I had a tongue-silencing spiritual encounter that has since rooted me to the island. Someday, perhaps I will write about it.

This time, while being gentle and subtle, I again felt the Spirit stirring in me, reminding me of what I love and desire: Christ, the Eucharist, the Church.
​It made me feel like me again, my mind no longer just an unending list of tasks and unspoken anxieties.
It has been beautiful, and I am grateful. And happy.

​Malta has my heart, for it has a way of steering my soul back to where it needs to be.  Where is has joy.