The birth of our niece has been the headline of the week, the month, the year! It is wonderful. I so enjoy seeing my brother and his wife as new parents. I am nostalgic remembering my babies at that teeny-tiny stage. I love welcoming such an incredible, beautiful, healthy member of our family.
At the same time, I honor Sophia's mommy and daddy, who, two days after Lucia's birth, met their first daughter and said goodbye in less than an hour's time. I do not know this family, but share their pain through the blogosphere, and hold them up in prayer. I don't know if it's my age and stage in life, or a changing attitude of openness in our society, but it occurs to me I know of more friends who have lost babies-- through miscarriage, stillbirth, genetic disorders or illnesses-- than friends who have all their children with them here on earth.
Here in Krinkeland, the matters have not been nearly as momentous as birth or death, but, we have been busy, juggling family time with the demands of the school theater program, and scheduling those dreaded annual visits with specialty doctors for Benjamin and, this year-- just to check-- his sisters, too. All these events make me think about a friend of mine, a mother with young children whose mother-in-law babysits while my friend works part-time. Like many of us, my friend is a worrywart-- constantly warning her kids not to play by the stairs, taking sharp objects from their hands, watching for signs of illness or injury. In those moments, my friend's MIL reminds her, "You know, these children are not yours."
True. How irritatingly, agonizingly, painfully true. These are God's children. Born into our arms and into our hearts, for our care... for a very brief period in time. Not my children, but the Lord's. For His glory. All for His love.
And, so, I would like to know, where is God to fold all this laundry?