Love hurts.

I’ve never lost a kid before yesterday, let alone three of them.  One of my favorite parts of Sundays is riding a 15-passenger van, knocking on doors, and starting the day with the smiling faces of my friends, young and old(er).  After a horrible fire yesterday, there will be one less door to knock on and three fewer children on the van.  A mom has lost all three of her children.

Now I’ve seen the hurt of loss and pain and grief in more faces than I’d like to think about.  As I talked, prayed, and cried with kids who have lost (and felt the loss ourselves), we talked about how it hurts so much because we loved.

Once again, I feel the truth that love hurts.  I’ve seen it on parents’ faces, on siblings’ faces, on friends’ faces, and it’s never nice.  Quite honestly, it makes me appreciate God’s willing choice to love me (and the rest of the world) so well and so freely.  He knows the pain it will bring; He feels the heartbreak of suffering each day.  Only because He’s God can He do it.

For now, I pray…and trust that God knows what’s happening.  He is still, always, good.


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