Today is a hard day. The kind where you have to gulp and put one foot in front of the other and venture out the front door because otherwise you might just dig a hole in the pile of dirty clothes sitting in your closet, grab your most favorite little munchkin and hide away for, oh, a few decades at least.
In what can only be described as the most bizarre, freak accident, one of our preschoolers at church–a precious one-year-old who was in L’s Sunday school class–passed away today. “How?” and “Why?” and “What?”… these are the questions that spiral through my head, but I know there won’t be answers. Some things we simply cannot understand.
While a hideaway does sound so supremely comforting right now, I know life would be so boring. For the bitter taste of death reminds us of the sweet deliciousness of life. And the crazy, mysterious, leave-it-to-God-to-work-in-this-way part of it all is… somewhere, a family is celebrating because their loved one has just gotten a new chance at life since Jackson’s parent’s decided to donate his organs. Somewhere, God has just said “yes” to one family’s prayers even as He said “no” to another one’s desperate pleas. His ways are not our own.
And I am soberly reminded that our children do not belong to us. They belong to their Creator, and they are given to us for a season to love, cherish, enjoy and train. Today, like every day and every breath, is a day to celebrate, hug, kiss and whisper sweet “I love you’s.” Tomorrow is not a guarantee, but today… today is a gift.