Blessed By Your Story

Friday, February 26, 2010 1 Comments A+ a-

Life is hard… and scary… and so uncertain.

The internet is a funny thing. While some can’t begin to fathom why we open our hearts and our homes to complete strangers, it has woven a strange sense of community. It has made the world that much smaller. We read about the families and the stories, we come to know them and love them, and we want to ease their suffering, their pain, their aches. Even as much as we want to make it better for them, we can’t help but give way to our own questions. Why that family? Why those parents? Why?

I can’t begin to number the stories that I’ve read over the internet, of families who have struggled with the suffering and often times, death of their children. Oh. It makes me ache, the universal ache of every woman who has mothered a child. The collective pain of every father who has held a sleeping child and wondered at the miracle of them. But I can’t turn away.

I’ve often wondered why we put ourselves through it, why we connect with a stranger, grow attached to their family and their story, only to know its going to hurt us too. And a part of me wonders if perhaps we’re trying to share a burden, the burden of a pain so deep and so heavy that one can’t bear it alone. I don’t know… But if my reading their story, if my crying alongside them through a computer screen, can bring any comfort at all, I welcome it.

And the greater benefit of opening myself up to that?

It reminds me.

It reminds that there are no guarantees on this earth. It reminds me that only God knows the number of our days. It reminds me that the greatest treasures this world has to offer are the ones that are often taken for granted. It reminds me to stop. To listen. To play. To cherish. To cuddle. And to love.

So as I pray fervently for the strength and sustenance for Layla Grace’s family, I remember to be thankful for the ones I’ve been given and to cherish each and every moment with them. Because someday, months from now, Layla Grace’s mom is going to wish she had a sick child to nurture, she’s going to wish for a child underfoot, she’s going to wish for sticky handprints on her walls.

Oh, dear Father, let me treasure the here and now.

And blessings, Layla Grace. God speed on this journey of yours. May we always remember your story and the lessons it brought.

I’m a coffee drinking, book reading, laundry procrastinating, husband and children loving, mess of a woman who believes that chips and salsa can fix anything. We have chickens running around the backyard, a mountain of dishes in the sink, and on any given morning, I have at least 10 school forms that need my signature or initials. It’s a crazy life {I prefer to call it controlled chaos}, but its ours.


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9:17 PM delete

Thank you for such a beautiful post, Jenn.