There is something about devastating loss that makes my stomach hurt.
Today, my mind is on an 8-year-old boy who is returning to school after losing his mother, three sisters and step-sister in a horrible car accident. This little boy goes to the same elementary school as my two youngest kids; he's actually a friend of my 8-year-old.
What's been haunting me even more is the image described to me by my youngest son yesterday. He told me that kids have been writing sad notes and pictures and putting them on the locker of this boy's younger sister (a second-grader) who was one of the victims of the accident. I've seen her picture and can't seem to get her adorable little, braided-hair smiling face out of my mind.
Both of my son's had substitutes yesterday because their teachers were attending the funeral. Teacher's shouldn't have to attend funerals! They should only be visited by students who have gone on the middle school and want to stop in to say hello.
Despite God's sovereignty and goodness of nature, nothing seems fair about a child dying. Nothing. Trust me -- I've explored probably every aspect of it over and over again. Everything about childhood is filled with innocence and goodness. When they're just "gone", it perverts the very nature of the whole thing.
Obviously, incidents like this bring me back very close to our own loss. I can't help it. And I don't know if that will ever change. There are times that fear wants to overtake me and I feel like life is an egg that I'm carrying around, hoping it won't roll off of my hand and break. Sometimes I'm fine. Honestly, I'm fine more often than I'm not, but when it hits hard, it hurts.
Jut please do me a favor and pray for this little boy. He has a long road ahead of him.
