When the Answer Is: "I Don't Know."

 I don't normally watch the news at night.

I watch the weather sometimes,

and I look on the internet if I hear something important

or want to check things out,

but I just feel unsettled sometimes

after hearing the news.

There's been a lot going on lately,

with the earthquake and tsunami in Japan

and the deaths of those 7 children in a fire

on the farm in our state of Pennsylvania.

Terrible things.

I found them hard to fathom,

impossible to fully grasp.

I've read about people's fears,

and their questions,

misunderstandings and uncertainty,

frustration.

I felt it all in my heart,

but I pushed it aside

with a quiet prayer

needing to accomplish the necessities in my own world.

We don't realize what our children listen to,

see,

comprehend.

Violet wants details,

fears earthquakes.

She questions.

Levi at 4 years old

just asks me simple things lately.

"Mommy, who makes the wind?"

"God does, Levi."

"Who makes the moon and the stars?"

"God does."

"And what about the sun, did He make the sun, too?"

"Yes, Levi, He made everything."

"Does he make the wind blow different ways,

sometimes hard,

sometimes just a little?"

"Yes, Levi.  God knows what He is doing.

We don't understand everything, 

but God does,

and He has reasons for the way He makes the wind blow."

The other night I was working on this:

Working with clay is so enjoyable to me.

I never grew out of Playdough, I'm afraid.

It is relieving to me to form things with clay.

I admire God's skills in creating man

when I try to make things with clay.

After all, He must have enjoyed it, too.

 It makes my hands and lap

and everywhere I am working

quite a mess.

The video I was watching was over,

and the news came on.

I decided to leave it

so as not to cover the remote with clay.

Then, on our news station,

they began talking about the funeral for the seven children who died

in the fire this week,

and

I saw this:

the seven little white caskets of the Clouse family children.

(click the underlined writing to see the image provided by the Patriot News)

 Something inside of me broke.

The sorrow I'd felt for the people of Japan

and

the thought of these people burying their seven children:

babies they'd watched grow in momma's belly,

that they'd changed the diapers on,

tended to in the middle of the night,

sang lullabies to,

watched take first steps,

say first words,

read story books to,

enjoyed the laughter of

as well as

wiped away tears for countless boo-boo's.

And now they had to do this.

I just couldn't bare the sight,

and I began to cry uncontrollably.

I sobbed for their loss.

I wondered how they'd be able to go on.

How do you move past the sudden quietness of the house,

the things that may have at some moments

felt like tedium and constant demands?

And as I called out to God to help them

I realized,

I cannot understand

or know.

I cannot.

Only God can

and only He can help them through this.

But God spared them one child. 

And mom is 6 months pregnant.

They have a future where they might not have had any at all

if God had chosen to take them all.

And He could have.

They had all those memories and years of living with those kids.

God just wanted the laughter of those little ones with Him.

 It made me look with new eyes,...

making me see each moment as a treasure,...

a very unique gift.

 The days may sometimes seem long...

 dealing with their messes, noises, quirks...

 and antics,

 but I need to remember that they aren't really mine...

they are just on loan to me...

 to love...

and be loved by.

And for these gifts of the moments,

I am incredibly thankful.

"Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD:

and the fruit of the womb is his reward."

Psalm 127:3

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