I have so much more empathy for older folks since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
I’ve always tried to be a patient listener when hearing that same story over and over and over but have to admit that sometimes I’d drift off or internally mock an elder because I was tired of hearing it.
Not anymore.
Because I understand now that it’s in the telling that one both commemorates and honors people as well as the past.
Read the rest here: I Need To Tell The Story (Even If You’ve Heard It Before)
Barbara Bush, who died Tuesday, said she didn’t fear death. That may be because the 92-year-old former first lady faced it before, in the hardest way imaginable.
~Steve Hendrix, Washington Post article 4-18-18
Barbara Bush was many things-wife, mother, First Lady, spokesperson for literacy and charitable foundations.
She was bold.
She was sometimes blunt.
But she was always brave.
Early in her marriage to George she faced what no parent ever wants to endure. Her (then) only daughter, Robin, was diagnosed with leukemia in the days when cancer was barely understood and often not even spoken aloud.
Because their family had the means, and because Barbara was committed to fight for her daughter, they flew to the East Coast and endured months of treatment that only delayed Robin’s death, but did not cure her.
They returned to their Texas home a family minus one.
I’ve thought a lot about the many, many years Barbara lived after that terrible blow. I always do the math whenever any famous person who has buried a child follows their heart home to Jesus and reunion.
While there are days when I am utterly overwhelmed by the fact I may live for many decades with the burden of missing my son, days like today-when I have the bold, brave witness of Barbara Bush’s life to encourage me-I think I just might make it.
I long for my life to be just such a witness.
I want to live well and fruitfully in the years I have left.
I want to leave a legacy of love for those that come behind.
I want to be brave.
The death of a child is so painful, both emotionally and spiritually, that I truly wondered if my own heart and spirit would ever heal … I soon learned that I could help myself best by helping others … it wasn’t until Robin died that I truly threw myself into volunteer work. That precious little girl left our family a great legacy. I know George and I care more for every living person because of her. We learned firsthand the importance of reaching out to help because others had reached out to us during that crucial time.
~Barbara Bush (1925-2018)
What, exactly, is the value of believers in Jesus plastering an “Everything is fine” mask across our faces?
Are we afraid that if we allow someone to see our pain we are letting God down?
And how could that be?
Did not Christ Himself beg the Father in the Garden to take the cup from Him?
Yet we smile and wave and chat our way through encounters with people around us, pretending, pretending, pretending that life is easy when it most certainly is not.
Denying the dark and refusing to acknowledge the depth of our pain diminishes the value of the comfort of Christ.
When David wrote that, “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with me” he understood both the desperate need for and the great assurance of Christ’s Presence.
When we allow others to see our broken hearts, we also bear testimony to the sustaining grace of Jesus.
And we extend an invitation for them to meet this Savior that gives strength and comfort even in the darkest hours and hardest journeys.
thelifeididntchoose 