Thoughts on Jennifer
When the girls are at my house, we have a lot of fun. Their smiles and laughter really minister to me. I don't know how the whole heaven thing works, but I hope Jennifer can see them laughing. I hope she died knowing her girls would be OK.
The other day, the older one (she's 6) had done her homework at our table. They were outside playing with Julia, and I knew their dad was coming soon so I was putting her papers back in her folder. That's when I saw it -- a worksheet for St. Patrick's Day. It said something like "If you found a four-leaf clover, what would you wish for?" Grace had written "For my mommy to come back." My heart just fell out on the floor.
Last March I took Julia to the younger one's birthday party. Jennifer was a few months from death. That day, it really hit me what the cancer had done to her body. She was so bony -- and her skin seemed paper-thin. Her voice was weak and gravelly. The lymphoma had turned this 32-year-old mother into an old woman. I watched as she held Belinda on her lap and helped her open presents. "Can she be here for Belinda's birthday next year, God?" I prayed.
Well, she wasn't. So I guess the next question is, "So what now?" What about Easter? And what about Mother's Day? What will make Tommy and the girls whole again?
It's tempting, but I will not ask the "why?" question. Everyone who loses someone want to know why. Why are we the only ones who deserve an answer?