So much has happened lately, that my heart is aching for the hurting of the world, particularly our own. Our own family, our own friends, our own town. Today is the fourth anniversary of my dear friend’s son’s death. We went out to lunch yesterday, to be together, to visit, to talk about today. But yesterday was significant enough. Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of Matt’s last day here. How does a parent deal with this sort of anniversary? Or with the anniversary of today? Then the anniversary of his funeral? Then the upcoming holidays? She worries that she isn’t strong enough to bear it. But bear it she does, because she has no other choice. I know that she gets her comfort, and the strength she does have, from God first, then family and friends. She has suffered, in most of our opinions, the worst thing that can happen to anyone.
Yet, recent news revealed a mom had shot, and killed, her two boys. An apparently hurting, or likely mentally or emotionally ill, mom, stole the futures of the two people she probably loved most in the world. In one moment of her life, she made the most horrific decision anyone could make. Why do some people see death as their only escape? Why didn’t she do something that got her away from the stress of life long enough to calm down? Why didn’t she just leave for awhile? Why do some people feel they must immediately react to every feeling, emotion, and mood? Total futures, and many lives, can be ruined forever from one rash decision.
In my own extended circle, I’ve recently heard of two people that tried to commit suicide, and I know of two others who considered it. Why are people so sad? So overwhelmed? How do people learn to cope? There should be nothing so horrible that the only answer is death, when life is so precious.
While I was at the cemetery yesterday, I noticed a small grave. The dirt was relatively new, with just a tiny plaque that had a little girl’s name and 2007-2008 on it. It was a name I was familiar with, a story I knew part of. A beautiful toddler struck with a horrible disease that took her from her family so quickly, but not until they’d suffered months of agony during her downward spiral. I, and I’m sure many others, had prayed for a miracle that never came. Yet, I still believe, and I hope in a loving God. No I don’t understand, and I can’t imagine that I will ever understand, but I still place my faith in Him.
I’ve also been praying for Brett, a family member of one of my favorite in-laws. He‘s only twenty years old, and has been fighting for his life this week. Something major is wrong with his heart. I believe hundreds of people are praying for him, and I believe that God is listening; and so does someone else...our granddaughter, Megan.
She was packing up to go home on Sunday, when she stopped and asked me to pray with her. I thought she would pray for something for herself, or her parents. She has faced some of her own giants and will be the first to tell anyone that Jesus answers her prayers. I took her little hand in mine, and we bowed our heads. In her precious little five-year-old voice, she surprised me by saying, “Jesus, please fix Brett’s heart. Please make him all better so he can go home soon.“ Meg has never met Brett, she only heard of him this past weekend. But she knows Jesus, and for her, as it should be for all of us, that’s enough.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment