Heavy of Heart

It’s been a rough week.

One of the women from my church died Tuesday. Her children woke late, realized they’d missed the bus, and ran to wake her to drive them to school. But she wouldn’t wake up. When the paramedics arrived, they pronounced her dead. She’d been very sick with pneumonia for weeks, but she was better, completely better we thought.

She was in her 30s. She has four children, ages 1 through 10, and her husband (not their biological father) was in the process of adopting them. Her oldest daughter is my Girly Girl’s age, and they’ve been in Sunday School together for most of seven years. For many of those years, there were only three girls in the class, so they know each other well.

All four of the children are very bright, sweet-natured, beautiful, and obedient. I’ve always adored them, and though I didn’t know their mother well, I always respected her. Children are never that good by accident. One might be, but not four.

I had the older two children for an a couple of hours Wednesday, and the baby all morning today. So, so sweet. They seem resilient, as children do, but sadness comes over without warning. And there is no way to comfort them.

I don’t know what will happen to them. She’d only been married a year or two, and her husband has no children of his own. Going from bachelor to single-father-of-four in a couple of years is a lot to ask, and he’s struggled with some serious health issues as well.

Such a painful reminder to cherish every frustrating hour with my children. Life is shorter than we realize.

And a reminder to make legally binding preparations for what will happen to our children if we die unexpectedly.