You never wake up thinking

today is the last day I'm going to be able to hug and kiss my daughter. That is just what happened for some sweet precious friends of mine. I found out this morning that their 2 1/2 year old daughter Reagan passed away Tuesday, 3/30 after contracting bacterial meningitis. They had less than 24 hours with her after she became sick. Nothing could be done. They held her as she slipped away, from this earth and into the arms of Jesus.

I'm shocked. I'm horrified. I'm heart broken. I can't stop crying. I have too many thoughts. And I feel guilty for feeling any bit of grief and sorrow. Her parents probably feel that all the grief in the universe is theirs to bear. That no one has the right to share in any of it. I wouldn't blame them if they thought that.

I went to visit Reagan's parents as soon as I found out. What do you say? What could anyone possibly say? What words could bring even a fraction of comfort? I scrambled to try and find a silver lining. There was non. I said nothing. I just cried with them. I let them share what they wanted to share. We cried some more. I prayed with them. They asked about Brooklyn. And we cried some more.

So how were they? I have so much respect for how these people are leaning on their faith in God rather than blaming Him for their loss. Both parents are doing what they can to comfort Reagan's twin brother, who at 2 1/2 years old most likely has a hard time understanding what has happened.

And so I leave their house to go to work. My life goes on. Business as usual. The world keeps turning. The red lights continue to change to green. The DJs on the radio keep babbling. But I can't forget about the people who's lives were just ripped into two.

Lord, please comfort them. I beg you.

And when I got home I hugged Brooklyn. More than I ever have before. And I thanked God for every minute I've been able to enjoy.