Some nights, my little girl stops me from heading out of her bedroom after I’ve tucked her in.
Before I move on to the next kid’s room, she needs me to help her sort through scary questions, unfathomable for a just-turned-9 year-old. Matters of life and death and everything in-between.
It’s a gift to talk deep with her, because I get to point her to the HOPE I know, again and again.
I get to help her see where Jesus resides within the gains and the losses of this world.
But it also tears my heart out. She’s seen enough now to know it’s not all going to be okay. Not in the way we would like it to be.
She’s seen the broken way of things here. She’s walked through loss and several near-losses with us. She’s wiped tears and cut out pink heart-shaped cards, adding stickers and cursive I love you’s. She’s served up comfort in mugs of hot tea with a side of dark chocolate & almonds.
She knows things I wish she didn’t know.
It’s a terrible world, one with ISIS and earthquakes and anger and leaving and loss. It’s a world where we sometimes shake our heads and cry and say I don’t know. I don’t understand.
Recently a friend of ours lost his sister suddenly. She was younger than me.
She’d had a hard run, and when he stood to speak at her funeral, he said, It seemed like she could never really catch a break in life.
He shared what he has left of her, his memories. He talked about how she loved to put together 5,000-piece puzzles, and laughed that there was one currently spread across a table at Mom and Dad’s house–missing that one piece like always. Then he asked a question, and it left a lasting picture in my mind…
Click here to read the rest of this post at PurposefulFaith.com.