This afternoon I will attend the funeral of a precious 6 week old boy. Born to two sweet young friends who I’ve seen grow in their budding relationship in their twenties, go to school, marry and the birth of their son. The sweetest, kindest, gentlest couple you’ve ever met. It’s been a heart-breaking week. To say the least.
Yesterday was the anniversary of a dear friend’s daughters passing. Next week she would have turned 16. It hit me a little harder this year. The memories of that time rushing back, so fresh, so raw, so utterly painful.
A very dear friend’s grandson is currently struggling in the NICU. A micro-preemie born to another precious couple who have already dealt with tremendous trials of health and working their wedding vows the past couple of years.
Today, we welcome a king with palm fronds and cheers and in less than a week “we” will cry out to trade his life for a murderer, one who deserves his death, not the freedom he ultimately receives. Yet, He goes willingly. A mercy we do not deserve.
I go into this Holy week with a heavy heart and “whys” that will go unanswered in this lifetime, but a hope and promise of an eternity defeating death that I do not deserve.
I don’t know why.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” ~Jeremiah 29:11