Mom Shirley

I wonder if it's a good thing or a bad thing that my children have experienced so much death in their short lives. I can see the benefit: heaven is very real to them. They do not fear death. They hate it, but they do not fear it. They have so many people they love there waiting for them.

But I hate that they have had to experience it. I hate the sadness that envelopes them at times. I hate the impotence I feel at their grief. I cannot make it better. It sucks. It is broken. I cannot change that.

I want my children to love God. I want them to trust in His love for them. I want for this too to be made right.

Mom Shirley is dying. She is the grandmother that we have helped care for since her stroke when Ty was a baby. Her house is where we spent every Wednesday night for over a decade. Her wheelchair is the first "car" that both my boys worked on with their little plastic tools. Her words of wisdom taught me how to potty train and laugh and relax and cook cream of chicken soup. She has ruthlessly trusted God in all things. Her husband and two of her children are in heaven waiting for her.

Her leaving will leave a gaping void in our lives that only the Spirit can comfort. And she will be one more person that my kids will look forward to seeing in heaven.