Thursday, October 9, 2008

One of those unexpected beautiful moments in an otherwise crazy day/life

Today was a phone day - the kind when you hang up the phone and it instantly rings again. When you answer it, the cell phone goes off and they are both important, repeat ad infinitum. It doesn't happen very often. In fact, my phone is usually very quiet.

But in the middle of fielding these calls and canning another round of salsa, I had one hour of a tender mercy.

I picked up the other phone and heard the voice of someone who has been on my mind this past year. I don't even know how to describe the effect her call had on me, but it was wonderful and heart-wrenching all at the same time. She is also the mother of a son with disabilities who died over a year and a half ago.

I had felt that I should call her or send her a note these past few months, but part of me felt that it would somehow be the wrong thing to do. I didn't want to remind her of her loss or cause her any pain. I just didn't want to say the wrong thing. I realize now just how foolish those thoughts are. She called me today and we grieved together.

The loss of a child isn't something that ever leaves you. It's not like a scraped knee - a little blood, a little pain and then bam! a couple weeks later it heals and you're over it. Caring for a child day in and day out who is so dependent on you is amazing and hard and AMAZING. They become an integral part of your life, they are your life. And when that is gone it is a very real, painful loss.

It is a hole in your heart, an aching that doesn't go away. That ache may subside and ease a little from time to time, but it will always be present, throbbing in the background. Even the faith we have in the plan our Savior has for us, the knowledge that we can be reunited after death cannot take that pain away. It is part of being human, part of being a mother, part of being in a family.

What this dear friend reminded me is to take each moment and cherish it because it doesn't come again. Each day with your child (no matter how hard) is a memory to store up against the future.

She is who I want to be: grace under pressure, shelter from the storm, one who loves unconditionally, and ultimately a woman who finds her strength in God and trusts in Him completely. I am blessed to be touched by her tender, giving heart, and to have her example of faith in my life.