God speaks

This was a difficult spring.  Take March, for instance.

Early in the month, Amelia received her first college rejection letter.  While I applaud the efforts of the various admissions staffs to ease the blow, and I appreciate all the care that must go into the wording of those letters, rejection is still rejection no matter how difficult a decision it was to make or how large the applicant pool might have been.

Next, we learned that my aunt Betty, a favorite in our family, was diagnosed with inoperable cancer and had, at best, only a few months to live.  On the same day, Amelia’s boyfriend decided that since they would be going their separate ways next year it was best to break up sooner rather than later—a sentiment with which, in theory, I agree, except when it causes my daughter undue pain. 

Then, on the 20^th, Amelia’s 18^th birthday, Mark and I flew out to Ohio to be with Betty for what we were sure would be the last time (to make matters worse, we asked Amelia to drive us to the airport at 5:00 in the morning!).  We did not return home until late the next day, just a few hours after telling the girls that Betty had passed away.

It wasn’t until the 28th of March, however, that it all began to come apart for Amelia.  That was the day that the college she had her heart set on, the one that from the very beginning had been her first choice, turned her down.  I came home from work that day to find her locked in her room, the covers pulled over her head, crying.  When I asked what was wrong, she stuck one hand out from under the covers and handed me a crumpled, tear-stained piece of paper and I knew exactly what was wrong.  Sitting on the side of her bed, I was speechless.

“Please God,” I prayed, “give me the right words to say.”  When, at long last, I was finally able to speak, here is what came out:

“Do you want to go to the movies?”

“Yes,” came the tearful response.  And so, on a cold and bleak Monday night in March, Amelia and I went to the movies and drank ourselves sick on blue slushies.

It wasn’t the most profound thing I could have said; nor did it change Amelia’s circumstances or the way she felt about them.  But, it got her to throw back the covers, and to put one foot in front of the other until things began to hurt a little bit less which, sometimes, is the best any of us can do.

That God sure does know what to say sometimes.

how could this be?

Today  I was reminded yet again of how strange and unpredictable life is.

On Monday morning, we learned a classmate of Amelia's was missing; by late Monday afternoon, we received confirmation that she was dead.  Murdered.  Tuesday morning, we heard that another classmate had allegedly killed her.  Intentionally. Brutally. Mercilessly.

One minute, I was spreading mulch on the rose bushes, and the next I was trying to wrap my head around man's inhumanity to man.  One minute, I was waving a flag at the Fourth-of-July parade and the next I was asking how could this happen?

After all, these weren't just any kids.  These were kids from my hometown.  I watched them both grow from children into teens and young adults.  I clapped for them at school plays and cheered for them on the soccer sidelines.  I waited in playing field parking lots and driveways for them.  I stood in their kitchens and they stood in mine. I knew them or, at least, I thought that I did.

At times like these, I am forced to admit that for all my efforts to control life, to make schedules and plans; to choose the right schools, the right friends, the right activities for myself and my children;  even to regulate the temperature of my home and the softness of my bed, there are some things in life that are, and always will be beyond my ability to control.  And, at times, even to comprehend.