"Star Light, Star Bright" is a favorite of mine to teach to the little ones, thanks to my friend Jana, who showed me a lovely little wishing game to play with it. Using a star wand, I walk around the circle as we sing and whoever my star lands on at the end of the game gets to make a wish. Typically, I hear things like "I wish I had a dog" or "I wish I had a Star Wars Lego set." And most recently, from a child whom the star did not land on, "If I could make a wish, I'd wish that you'd let me have a turn." But last week, a little girl (who I'll call Kendall) said, "I wish Amy was here." Assuming she was referring to a friend or cousin far away, I asked who Amy was. "Amy was my first mommy. She died." My heart paused as I felt the immediate sting of tears. I smiled and responded, "I'm so sorry to hear that. It would be so nice if we could bring back the people we love, wouldn't it?" She looked up at me sweetly and softly said, "it's ok, I have a second mommy now, and a grandma. I love them."
Five years old, surrounded by classmates whose greatest wishes in life are for material possessions, Kendall simply wants her mother. But, unlike the other kids whose wishes may come true at Christmas or on their birthday, she knows hers is unattainable. It's a difficult truth at any age, but the look in her pretty blue eyes as she talked was that of someone much older and wiser. Someone who has come to terms with the hand they've been dealt and has found a bit of peace amid the madness of grief. I know that look well. I have seen it in the mirror, in the eyes of my husband, my brothers, my sisters, my parents. My precious nephews and their incredibly strong mother.
My brother-in-law, Garrett, passed away last October. It was sudden, it was incomprehensible, and it was the most difficult moment of my life. His death turned our lives upside down and in an instant, my husband and I realized our priorities were out of order. Our perspectives on life have been permanently changed because the world looks very different after a loss. And despite the sadness and anger, we know we are privileged, because with our new eyes we see God working like never before. I imagine this is what it's like to be behind the scenes of something awesome - a Broadway show, a movie set, a sold-out concert - only these would pale in comparison to the wonders God can perform. That said, we are still grieving and while we may understand more than five-year-old Kendall, we are really no different. I no longer wish for material things or money or time to complete my to-do list. I speak for everyone who knew and loved Garrett when I simply say "I wish Garrett were here."
*My sister-in-law, Meg is writing about her experience over on showersofgrace.com. It's an inspiring and encouraging read that chronicles her journey through her loss.
Five years old, surrounded by classmates whose greatest wishes in life are for material possessions, Kendall simply wants her mother. But, unlike the other kids whose wishes may come true at Christmas or on their birthday, she knows hers is unattainable. It's a difficult truth at any age, but the look in her pretty blue eyes as she talked was that of someone much older and wiser. Someone who has come to terms with the hand they've been dealt and has found a bit of peace amid the madness of grief. I know that look well. I have seen it in the mirror, in the eyes of my husband, my brothers, my sisters, my parents. My precious nephews and their incredibly strong mother.
My brother-in-law, Garrett, passed away last October. It was sudden, it was incomprehensible, and it was the most difficult moment of my life. His death turned our lives upside down and in an instant, my husband and I realized our priorities were out of order. Our perspectives on life have been permanently changed because the world looks very different after a loss. And despite the sadness and anger, we know we are privileged, because with our new eyes we see God working like never before. I imagine this is what it's like to be behind the scenes of something awesome - a Broadway show, a movie set, a sold-out concert - only these would pale in comparison to the wonders God can perform. That said, we are still grieving and while we may understand more than five-year-old Kendall, we are really no different. I no longer wish for material things or money or time to complete my to-do list. I speak for everyone who knew and loved Garrett when I simply say "I wish Garrett were here."
*My sister-in-law, Meg is writing about her experience over on showersofgrace.com. It's an inspiring and encouraging read that chronicles her journey through her loss.