Sorrow

Right now I'm held still by the frailty and inestimable value of human life. It's always this precious, this fragile, but most days I don't consider it.

Most days I'm impatient when my four-year-old dawdles with the toothpaste at bedtime, or I'm nettled when I walk into the kitchen I just cleaned (just cleaned!) only to find all the colored Monopoly money strewn across the floor.

But then someone I know loses someone they love, and I'm forced to pause, to consider.

Keegan's family (first post, update) has just got to be reeling today. When I think of him, I imagine him looking just like my youngest son.

A friend of ours unexpectedly lost her husband in March. When I picture him, he has my husband's smile and eyes the color of sky.

I'm not sure why I always picture someone else's sorrow as my own, but it seems to help me ache for them. And it chastens me to pay attention to the people who walk around in my house every day, to treasure those lives.

If you are on speaking terms with God, please pray for Keegan's family.