I find myself bawling for a toddler whose mother was killed last year simply because she complained about the noise from a construction worker who was having a bad day. Why was that poor baby robbed of her mother? She was too young to remember her. She will never remember her mother. She was three. Who remembers their mother at three? Sophie Ostroy will only have the movies her mother made and stories - she will not have real memories; she will not have her mother...because some 19 year-old Ecuadorian illegal immigrant was having a bad day???
Why is this fair? Why didn't God stop it? Why didn't He let her live? Protect her? I always had a pragmatic view to people asking why God allows bad things to happen. I've always had the pat answer about free will and natural consequences,...but that's not good enough for the grief I have for this poor baby that will never know her mother. That's not enough when I think about my baby, just two. How do I make sure I'm always here for her, for her brother and sister and father? How do I guarantee that they will have me - the real me, not some video or stories? I can't. There's nothing I can do to make my existence a certainty. There's nothing any of us can do.
And that's what makes me want to go pull my babe from her bed and bury myself in her little sleep-sweaty neck for eternity; to whisper in her ear that Mommy loves her and will never leave her; to hold onto her forever and never ever let her out of my arms.