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Sunday
Feb082009

I Don't Have a Title for This Post

(This is a post from another blog; the brief text is a link as well)

 

                                             Cora is with Jesus today.

 

(My post begins here)

I don't know where to start.  This is going to be stream-of-consciousness...

There are so many questions we have in this life.  Like a two-year-old, I want to ask,"Why?  Why is it that for some, life is so short?"  Why is there such suffering and hurting, such sorrow and pain in life?  I know the "technical" answer to these questions (sort of), but it doesn't make the reality any easier.  I don't even really know these folks.  I have been following their family's journey for the last week or so, through a blog.  The internet makes for a strange kind of connectedness.  A www.-pictures and words-very weird kind of connectedness.  You find out about interesting or funny people.  You find out about people who are going through some really rough times (and there are plenty of others out there that I don't have a link to).  Then you watch as their whole life (lives?) change in an instant. 

I am not sure what kind of a "thing" this is.  I'm hurting for this sweet family; they have such strong faith, and have been a witness to God's goodness and sovereignty.  And here they are, in all their grief, trying to rest in the knowledge that their precious little girl is with her Lord and Saviour.  Indeed, a comfort, yet what pain and anguish.  I cannot imagine.  Well, I can only imagine, and it hurts, it's heart-breaking, there are no words...

Yet, here I am, typing, typing, typing words and thinking of all that I am thankful for.  I'm literally naming the many blessings I have in my life...my healthy family, our home, Mike's job, things like that.  Then there is the fact that our God reigns and has promised to restore all of creation one day.  That is something to long for, to hope for, to anxiously await. 

This family asked for prayer throughout their ordeal, this terrible journey they had to take.  They offered up praises to God each day, and then offered up needs.  There were many, many people, total strangers who were responding to this.  People all over the country, even outside of the country who had found out about Cora and were praying. 

It is a mystery why God answers prayers the way He does.  He gave Cora a stable day, her final day.  She must have passed away sometime between midnight and 7:45 this morning.  The post that is just prior to the one you see above (which is so beautiful in its simplicity) gives no indication that she would lose her battle so soon, so suddenly.  I've wondered if her parents were able to hold her in those last moments.  I hope so.  Oh, how I hope so.  But it seems so abrupt.  And although there was no cure, He did heal her.  He gave her little body, beaten by chemo treatment, and surgery, and drugs, rest.  She will not hurt anymore.  She will never suffer again.  Maybe there can be comfort in that.

Maybe her little body just couldn't take all that was happening.  And now she is at rest.  And one day she will be restored, her body will be healthy again.  Maybe there can be comfort in that.

As to "what kind of a thing this is"...we are the body of Christ, called to carry one another's burdens, and although there can be information overload with the internet, there can also be access to fellow believers who can help carry the heaviest of burdens to the Lord and help give them over to Him.  Maybe there can be comfort in that.

My little girl is here with me.  My other two kids are in Sunday School.  I will go over and pick up my eight year old and head to worship.  My 18 month old is shouting behind me, in her high chair.  She's happy, she's drinking milk, she's smiling at me and talking-I'm not sure what she's saying.  Ah, she says,"Hole-shoe" which is "hold you."  I think I will...

 

 

Reader Comments (1)

Thanks for that. I'm a relative of Joel and Jess and found comfort in your words. Thanks for praying for them. Hug your kids today especially hard.

February 8, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterandi

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