"A broken heart is the worst. It's like having broken ribs-- nobody can see it, but it hurts every time you breathe." --unknown. Last week, I stumbled across a news snippet about the killings at Sandy Hook Elementary School. That night, as Graeme and Jobie slept safely, I cried as I told my husband about the unknown-to-me fact I had discovered. As I sit here, thousands of miles away, the grief from that day weighs heavy on me. But I cannot, in any way, grasp the weight of their loss; my babies are alive. Today marks two months since the shootings. Today, while the rest of the world holds their loved ones, those parents will grieve for the loved ones they will never hold again.
It's not my intention to write a heartstring-pulling post here today. And it's not on my docket to illicit a response through emotionalism. All I want to say is this: today, I want to remember the difficulty of these parents and families, pray for them frequently, and continue on in loving those around me. I want to remember the pain that isn't always visible. That's it. I wish it were so much more. (By the way, a blog that I came across about a year ago, As I Walk, is written by Settle, a mother who lost her three year old son. It's a place that I would very highly recommend to anyone going through such heartbreaking loss.)
If the life that we've been given is made beautiful in the living and the joy that we get brings joy to the heart of the giver, then right here, right now, let's live like there's no tomorrow and love like we're on borrowed time. It's good to be alive. --Jason Gray | Good to Be Alive
p.s. My little valentines are receiving Oliver Jeffer's 'This Moose Belongs to Me' as a gift today. Have you read it? It's just the best. And, in the spirit of loving those around us, I'm sharing a little video of those I love the most. Happy Valentine's Day!