When I found out my co-worker Shanda’s sweet little toddler
died so unexpectedly Saturday night, I was dumbfounded. Then devastated. How could this happen. . . and why? It didn’t, and still doesn’t, feel
real.
I remembered how much Shanda loved little Bailey, and how
much Bailey was like her. So sweet
and gentle.
Her death is incomprehensible to me. In my mind, I know God is good,
merciful, is wise and compassionate.
I know that He sees globally, not only in the small realms that I live
in. I know He has Bailey in His
loving arms, and He weeps with her parents as they grieve her loss.
But it’s so hard not to wonder why little Bailey wouldn’t
have been better left with her parents on this earth longer than the couple of
years she was here.
I wonder -- how would we react if we were told ahead of time
how long we would have our children?
If we had a different name, if Mommy really meant Caretaker,
knowing that our role was important but temporary and only for the span of say, two years, or perhaps eighteen years or maybe twenty-six – would we do things
differently?
Would we hold our children more and blow off their annoying
questions less?
Would we listen to them with both ears and our minds instead
of saying, “Oh, what?”
Would we encourage more than criticize?
Would we get irritated as often?
Would we want to put that computer game in their hands, or
instead, would we invest more of ourselves into their lives?
Would we cuddle them as we read a bedtime story instead of
yawning and making excuses?
The truth is, none of us knows our time allotment. So why are we wasting any time doing
anything other than the things we know to be right and good?
That’s one thing that brings me comfort: Shanda can rest in the fact that she was a
great mommy to Bailey.
She invested wisely.
