A friend gave me that word as a gift a five years ago--in the form of silver decorative letters.

Three years later, I spent a week in the hospital. It was a very difficult time, but it was also a life-defining moment. To help ease my stress on return, my house was professionally cleaned before I came home.

A few days later, I noticed that something was different. After cleaning off my dresser top, the ladies put the letters back in a different order. They no longer spelled imagine. Now they said something far more personal: im angie.

I was dumbfounded. What are the chances that hidden within MY word is also my identity? Imagine. I'm Angie.

So what's the deal with imagine? And why do I need it so badly in my life?

During my two full-term pregnancies, I was full of imagine. Every thing around me seemed to be pregnant too--with possibility.

I spent most of my days forming mental images of what my babies would be like, how I would mother them, and how we would spend our time together.

And I think that's the point. I was full of wonder. Open to new, uncharted territory. Excited about the unknown. Pregnant with vision.

And somewhere along the way I lost that sense of wonder.

I am finding the wonder again... and this time I'm not going to let it go.