It’s hot. Everyone’s cranky.
And a tornado ripped across the heart of this country, tearing apart lives.
There is a part of me that says, “Why, Lord? Why must they suffer?”
There is so much suffering. I try to remind myself that this idea that things are somehow worse than they once were is an illusion, created by the interconnectedness of modern life.
We know within seconds the details of something happening on the other side of the world. That’s a relatively new thing. We haven’t always had instant access to so much information.
It’s ironic, but as much as it may seem that our current society is selfish and self-absorbed, I’m not sure that’s really true. We have a gift that previous generations have never have---the ability to really know and love people we’ve never met in person. The ability to pray and cry for those suffering thousands of miles from here
But the suffering has always been there. Storms have always raged, scarring the Earth. Scarring lives. People have always been really carpy to each other.
There have been ice ages. Mass extinctions. Homicides and genocides. Almost to the very beginning of time. Life is hard. Survival is not a sure thing.
Tomorrow is not even a sure thing.
The older kids in this house are rather pun-ish and perhaps a little too smart. A while ago they told their little sister that the Apocalypse is always tomorrow. Meaning that the end of time is at some point in the future, not right now.
Being 4, now any time someone says to Emma that we will do something “tomorrow,” she says, “but tomorrow is the Apocawypse!”
A week ago, that seemed funny. Today it feels like the truth smacking me in the face.
A week ago I was talking about giving the special needs butterfly time to emerge. It’s hard to have the patience to wait and watch as our children grow up and burst out of their cocoons. We know deep in our hearts that there might not be a tomorrow.
So we want everything for them right now.
Perhaps the hardest part is letting them be, letting them become, and releasing them to God’s Will. Come what may.
I’m not going to tell you to treasure every minute of it. I’m a mom. I know you won’t love every minute of it. Sitting in a waiting room to get a broken arm x-rayed stinks. Trying to figure out why your kid is melting down for the umpteenth time in an afternoon---not the kind of moment I’m going to treasure.
But I do want to be more intentional. Less wrapped up in my own stuff. I don’t ever want the last memory to be that I didn’t have time for one of my kids.
Hold onto your kids, but not too tightly.
Release the Butterflies is about letting go of our preconceived notions and allowing our kids to break out of their cocoons. I’m blogging this month with a few friends about how we can appreciate our kids in their uniqueness and embrace who they really are. All kids.
I invite to read what my friends had to share this week:
Anticipating the Butterfly by Chareen @Every Bed of Roses
Releasing the Butterflies. Firefly… by Nicole @Schooling in the Sun
And I invite you to join us and link up!
Don’t miss this week’s giveaway for a copy of My Memories Suite + the Release the Butterflies Designer Pack!