Time wasted

I have made a new friend since I lost Sully. She found me through a friend of hers who read this blog and so she learned of me. She lost her own little boy, a vibrant toddler, 11 months ago. It is tragedy and grief that has brought us together. I am thankful that she is willing to walk alongside me in the most understanding and compassionate way. We are thankful for the friendship between us but agree that if we had the choice we would rather not know each other because that would mean that we had our boys.

We spent some time together this week at the beach and having lunch and just talking. We talked about how different we feel after walking through the death of our children, how different it makes us to carry every day the weight of such a great sadness. We both have situations in our lives that before our tragedies would have brought much worry to our hearts. While these situations deserve much prayer and wisdom, we ask ourselves what can be worse than what we've already been through? What can not be survived after surviving losing a child?

That got me thinking about all the ways Sully has made me see the world differently. I know I'm not immune to more bad things happening, but, I know that, come what may, goodness and mercy really do follow me. I know that I will be OK even though OK looks very different from what I might have once expected.

I find myself more willing to enter into lives that are truly suffering and broken. My compassion has grown in leaps and bounds. But, on the flip side of that, I find myself quite intolerant of the stupidity of vanity, ego, pride, selfishness, materialism, etc. Granted, those are all things I also still find in myself. But then, I hear that voice asking me, "what does any of this matter after losing your baby?" and the eternal comes back into view.

And what else do I find changed? I find I am much more willing to waste time on those I hold dearest. The other night Ella sat in my lap at the computer hours past her bedtime while we played with her webkinz. That is so not me. But I realized as I just enjoyed her and gave myself over to playing in this world she loves that it was exactly this time wasted that built the bond between us. I could have been doing a million other things and she, of course, should have been sleeping. But, instead, I gave her myself, my time, my attention. And she was worth it. So, I stop what I am doing more often these days to read a book to them or pick them up when they stretch out their arms to me. In wasting time I sense healing for this broken heart.

(and - just as a side note -I believe in a God who could have taught me all of these things without the loss of my son. It irks me when people put that twist on it - you know - that 'God must have had to teach you something' twist. That's a crock to me. I want to honor my son by learning and growing from my experience with him. God's gift to me is his redemption of the brokenness and the goodness he brings out of the tragedy. I don't buy into the kind of a god who would bring tragedy just to teach me a lesson.)