Today, Aaron would have been ten months old. As I sit here and cry, I find myself wishing that I had the time to devote to some writing today...as my soul is overloaded with things that need to be said. Unfortunately, I can only steal a moment away to share just a few thoughts.
My four-year-old caught me sniffling at the computer this morning as I was looking at pictures of Aaron and deciding which one to share with Facebook on what should have been his 'ten-month' birthday. And, of course, she asked why I was crying. As we've done each time before, I just let her know that Mommy missed Baby Aaron but that I would be okay in a few minutes. She placed her hand lovingly aside my face and said, "And God doesn't mind if you're sad about Baby Aaron? Because He understands."
I suppose He probably does, but I find myself struggling to understand. I find myself hoping against hope that I could find the innocence and the acceptance that our children seem to share so readily just when we need it most. The faith of a child really is something to be admired.
