kyrie elieson

The saddest news just bowled me over. The most dear mom of one of my very dear friends received news see has terminal cancer. She's beautiful in so many ways, and so many lives just got jolted into unknown, dark, scary, lonely territory. My friend laments that her daughter is only a year old and will not get the chance to know or be known by her. Rightfully so. What will her dad do? How much pain will she endure? We are so frail and vulnerable.

It, of course, made me think about what I'd do if my mom died. I have no idea--my siblings and I would be so lost. I ache for my friend and her family.

Last week, my sister had a long conversation with a lady about her life. The lady wrapped up by saying, "You're really lucky that your mother loves you." My sister was taken aback: of course, our mother loves her. Then she thought about it, and realized that a mother's love isn't a given. We are well loved, and so is my friend.

Family is a mix of the prosaic and the profound. For instance, I went to the Cleveland County Fair with my brother and rode all the rides that didn't go upside-down. We fed carrots to llamas and ostriches, looked at the winning Lego fort (with soldiers and monkeys defending it), and got lost on the way up. I was very conscious of the memory we were making at several junctions like when I asked a lady in her 60's decked out in camo for directions or when we were questioning the beach scene backdrop for the ride called "Tornado"-- do they mean hurricane? Even when we came back to the house, my brother offered me some "Christmas candy". Only we would know what he was talking about. Most of the profound stuff is beyond words and falls under the "things good are small and fragile." A mom's love is experienced not explained. Your family is deeply woven into your soul and reality's fabric. Something happening to them rips and alters your very being. After all, we're made in the image of the triune God.

So sad. So helpless. Please pray.