maybe too much.

a friend of mine lost her 16 month old son a week ago tomorrow.

his name was hudson.  her name is sarah.

for as long as i can remember, my father has told me to put myself in someone else's shoes.  and walk around.  see how it feels.

i do that to a fault.

as in, i sometimes do that so well, i am literally stuck for days.  unable to get past something that i'm not even personally dealing with.  i mean, i am.  but i shouldn't be.

in my mind, i can justify this because so many people are without empathy.

and so i think God just saw fit to give me 5 (read 500) times the normal amount.

with that being said, i have NEVER hurt for anyone like i hurt for sarah.

don't hate on me for this...but until you've grown your own child.  until you've carried him in your womb for 40 weeks.  until you've nursed him.  held him.  worried about him.  until you've been up hours on end without any kind of break, you won't understand this.

i'm talking about holding him.  smelling him.  hearing his heartbeat.  feeling him next to your skin.  rubbing the hair off his forehead over and over and over again.  kissing that space where his chin meets his neck.

until you've clipped his fingernails all the while trembling with fear that you'll clip his finger.  until you've jammed a thermometer up his rear so that he will finally poop.  until you've been puked on.  peed on.  screamed at.

you just won't get it.

i can close my eyes and see my boys.

i can see their eyes.  and their noses.

i can see the way max squinches up his face.
i can see pratt smiling with his whole being.

and so tonight, when i saw that sarah said she just wanted to kiss hudson's face one more time...well, that's when i just lost it.

that's when i question everything i know.  that's when i scream at God and beg him to explain why that child had to go.  why would He do this to sarah?  why?  why not take someone else.  anyone else.  take someone who has lived out their life here.  take anyone but not that 16 month old angel.

pratt has this fear of heaven.  it's familiar to me because until about 6 years ago, i felt the same way.

he doesn't want to go.  why?  for the obvious reasons.

this earthly life is incredible for him.  he gets toys.  and presents.  he stays up late.  he loves preschool.  he has good friends.  he eats good food.  he goes to the cinema to watch movies.  he goes and visits his grandparents.  he takes trips.  he is healthy.  he is well taken care of.

he swims in the summer.  he plays in the snow in the winter.  he is living the life.  his life is better than pretty much anyone else i know.

heaven?  well, it's not tangible.  it's not clear what it is.  and he fears...most of all...that it will separate him from his mom and dad.  and that to him, well, that is terrifying.  and not anywhere he wants to be.

i can remember as a kid hearing the end was near and worrying.  not wanting it to happen.

now, now i would give anything for Jesus to return tomorrow.

i don't need to live another day.

why?

because what in the world else is going to happen?!

i mean, the good no longer outweighs the bad.

i know too much.  i've come too far.  i'm too old.  i've become such a cynic.

i have...sort of...seen behind the curtain.  i know what's there. i know the pain that exists.  i know the emptiness.  and the loneliness.  i know the hurt.  and the sorrow.  i know it all.  and i don't like any of it.

i'm struggling to figure out how i do my life here.  does that sound silly?  probably.  but it's true.  how do i stay positive?  how do i act like i'm okay to these two boys who love this life so much?  how do i fake it?  because that's where i'm at right now.  faking it.

i won't always be here.  eventually i'll be in another season.  a season where i am bigger.  and stronger. and i have this answered but something else will seem abstract and unattainable.  and i'll struggle through that.

more than anything else, i'm asking for grace.  because if you see me and i'm crying for no reason...you should know that it's for good reason.  just reason i can't explain.

i prayed that God would allow me to really feel his people.

it worked.
maybe too much.

night.

Last night I went into max's room to put him to bed. I expected to find him playing with his trains. Or with the kitchen stuff. Instead, when I walked in, I saw him standing there, facing the bookshelf. 

I could hear him humming. Like, "hmmm. What to read!!?" 

He grabbed a llama llama book and the went for two puzzles. 

My heart nearly exploded. 

I never ever want to forget that sight. Him. In his footed jammies. Picking out a book. It all goes by way too fast.