We don’t realize the extent of their loss until we compare it to the after pictures: sisters spoon-feeding that same brother; holding him up because he can’t sit on his own; pushing him in his chair.
When I look for the helpers in this Ebola crisis, I see that they are dying. These women in Africa - their death could have been mine; tears fall for them too. And I am left to wonder, where would Mr. Rogers tell us to turn when looking for the helpers no longer brings comfort?
Would you like to give your baby a name or we can simply call it baby X?
All of these questions were impossible and horrible and unanswerable but somehow I stumbled through them. No, thank you, I don’t want to see her. Yes, ashes, please. Baby X is fine.
These people I have loved have not come into my life often. I know that I can never predict what will come of my time with them but I can choose to give of myself. I can open myself and expose my brokenness. I can choose to not hide.
