One of my favorite songs is Dance With Cinderella. It is a beautiful and poinient challenge to take advantage of the time you have with your child because eventually, "She'll be gone." For most, this brings tears at the thought of her leaving home and living with someone else. Me too. But in my experience, it means more. It means that one day soon she may die.
My melancholy bluntness stems from recent events in the lives a people I care about. A dear, old friend faces his infant son's debilitating illness...and nothing seems to be working to heal him. Another acquantance at church lost their unborn child.
My wife and I have been through terrifying trials with our daughter...but not like that. Yet I can imagine the worst. My life experiences have taught me that she could be gone by this evening. I am helpless to stop that. Probably why we humans eventually seek solice in a "higher power." The Alcoholics Annonymous organization has it right...step 1: I admit I am powerless over my _________. I give control over to my higher power.
Fill in the blank.
But I don't want to be powerless! It's really not fair. If others get their time with their children, watch them grow up, have the luxary of time, why not I? Job said the same. Lost everything unfairly. And God's response...it blows me away.
"Who do you think you are to contemplate?" "Help me understand your great human wisdom which allows you to dictate fair versus unfair." Paraphrased, much of that seems to scream: "It's not about you Job." "There is a much bigger picture."
Could we be let in on the bigger picture then. If a child had to suffer, could we not see how it's all supposed to work out in the end. Just let me know who benefits, and how. What will I learn at the cost of this child's suffering. Worst of all...why do so many refuse to learn those lessons and repeat the same failings over and over again?
It doesn't make sense. But I should be used to that...there are a lot of things my mind doesn't wrap around. But I'm brooding. I don't have to suffer anything but the fear of those things. When I thought I was in the moment...I wasn't. Relief fell and all was right with the world.
It's not about me...but I am decieved to believe that it is. My child's suffering becomes my suffering...and I grieve because I hurt. "Why Me?"