On a serious note

Last night was a rough night for me. I could not sleep. I do struggle with insomnia from time to time, but last night was different. Sleep was difficult because my heart was heavy.

My biggest fear in life is losing my sweet husband or one of my precious children. Yesterday, my mom gave me the People magazine with the story of Steven Curtis Chapman's tragic loss. Many of you may know the story: Chapman, a christian singer, adopted 3 daughters from China when his 3 biological children were teenagers. In May of this year, one of the biological sons was returning home and parking his SUV when the youngest adopted daughter (only 5 years old) ran out to greet him. He did not see her and backed over her, killing her. The account of the pain and loss this family has suffered (most of all the son involved in the accident) made me weep. Their story of courage and faith only made me weep more deeply. (Sweet Evan walked over and said, "Mommy, when you finish reading, can you come help us build our tower? So, I immediately set about the business of playing with and tickling my own kids, and my mood was lifted.)

Later, after the kids were all tucked in, I was blog-stalking and happened upon a link titled The Story of Audrey Caroline. Even as I clicked, I knew the story would not be happy and that I was asking for it. I spent the next 30 minutes reading about a christian couple who was pregnant with their 4th daughter when, at their 20 week ultrasound, they found out that she had multiple maladies that would certainly claim her life either in utero, during delivery, or shortly after her birth. The doctors recommended terminating the pregnancy, but this couple of faith decided that they would keep the baby until God took her. Audrey Caroline was born in April of this year and lived only a couple of hours. The family's story was similarly tragic and similarly inspiring. They have used their tragedy to tell untold numbers of people about the hope that only Christ can give.

I nearly had a panic attack as I wondered why God would lead me to read these two accounts of tragic loss in the same evening. I just can't think about it. Unfortunately, I know a lot of folks who have had to endure unspeakable suffering with their children. I marvel at the strength these folks display and the testimonies of God's grace they are able to share through their pain. I thank our Lord that he never throws circumstances at us that he doesn't also provide us with the strength to endure. However, I pray fervently that I will never have to experience such loss (or such strength) first-hand. I am glad that God has given me a spirit of empathy and compassion, but sometimes I do wish it came with an off switch.

On a lighter note, here is a photo of Pressley, who found a pair of Evan's shorts while I was typing this entry and insisted on wearing them.

"Gangsta' Pressley"