The Spark

Growing up in a small, rural-Kansas town, I don’t remember a time when my dad wasn’t a part of the volunteer fire department.  In fact I have very few memories prior to him being the Chief.  Even though the department was all volunteer, the fire station, and the men and women who served there, are integral parts of my formative years.  After college, my brother moved back to the small town and also joined the fire department, taking his turn as Chief after my dad retired (finally!).  

One of my most cherished family memories is standing as a family, with my parents and my brother, two nights before my brother’s wedding, as we watched an abandoned house that had been struck by lightening burn to the ground.  There was something strangely poignant about this season of “just the four of us” ending in the midst of a fire.  The fact that the house was abandoned and no one’s life or property was in danger took the fear and urgency out of the night.  So we stood there, just the four of us, amidst the chaos of fire fighters doing what they do, and watched in awe the power of fire.  

The thing about a raging fire, like the one that consumed that abandoned house the night before my brother’s wedding, is that it usually starts with just a spark.  The smallest spark has the power to become an all-consuming inferno.  And when a fire that strong burns one of two things will happen, it will destroy or it will cleanse.

The danger of a spark is that when it ignites it has the potential for immense force and too often it leaves destruction in its path.  There was another house fire I remember from my childhood.  This one started literally from the smallest spark thrown by an ember buried under the ash of a fireplace fire long burned out.  In the deep recesses of the night, the spark landed on the carpet outside of the fireplace.  The carpet ignited, the fire alarms did not go off, and only three of the five people inside made it out alive.  It was a tragic night in our small town.  There is no doubt that fire can destroy.  

A strange thing can happen when your daddy is the fire chief.  You start to LOVE the smell of fire!  Not just the smell of a bonfire on a fall evening, but that charred, burned smell that to most people brings a memory of pain, fear and loss.  To me, that smell conjures up memories of my dad, memories of safety, strength and protection.  It was the smell of my dad’s truck the day after he ran into a fire protecting our neighbors and their property from harm.  It was the smell of my hero and it represented his courage, his strength, and his protection.  To this day, I (perhaps inappropriately) LOVE the smell of fire, especially the smell of a burned field in early fall. 

The power of a spark is that it can also, ultimately, be cleansing.  My favorite time to head back home is during the fall, after the harvest, when the farmers in central Kansas burn their fields.  They do this for a couple of reasons.  One, to clear it of the old stubble and two, to destroy any remaining weed seeds.  Essentially, to cleanse the ground for the new planting.  The same power that makes the spark so dangerously destructive, is what makes it so purifying.  Only when the old waste and bad seed have been destroyed can the new harvest be planted and have room to grow.

The thing is, not all sparks will destroy and not all sparks will cleanse.  Not all sparks become a raging fire.  All sparks have the potential to be an inferno, but not all sparks do become an inferno.  In order for a fire to happen, a spark must be stoked, flamed, encouraged.  

You can find this “spark” or “fire” terminology throughout the Bible, often signifying the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit came down on the early church in flaming tongues!  Paul urges believers to fan the flames of their faith!  Christian songs sing of turning the spark from the Holy Spirit into a flame we can’t control!

Each of us, deep inside, have sparks.  We have sparks of rebellion that lead to destruction, leaving behind them loss and pain and charred remains of what we once had.  And we all have sparks from the Holy Spirit that can purify and cleanse us of all the waste and bad seed in our life, leaving fresh soil for a new harvest.  The question is which spark will you fan into a fire?  Both have the potential to change your life.  Both have the potential to become an inferno that you cannot control.  You, my friend, have to choose which spark you will let burn.

The Journey to the Promise Land

I imagine most of you reading this are familiar with the Promise Land.  

It is the land God promised to Abraham and his descendants back in the very beginning of the Old Testament, the land that lies along the eastern coast of the Mediterranean Sea.  Abraham settled there after he left Ur but just a few generations later his descendants ended up in Egypt due to a famine that spread through the lands.  The Israelites grew in numbers during their time in Egypt and out of fear of their rebellion, Pharaoh enslaved them, all of them.  Their life under Pharaoh was awful.  So awful that the Israelites groaned and called out to God to deliver them.  So God sent Moses to guide the Israelites back to the Promise Land, the land flowing with milk and honey, the land God had always planned for them, the land where they would finally be right where God wanted them. 

Wouldn't you just love to be there; in a place where the fields you are working (whatever those "fields" might be) are fertile and the harvest you reap is abundant; a place where you know this is what God had planned for you and you are right where he wants you to be?  

The problem with "there", with the Promise Land, is that it is almost always not where you start.  Just like the Israelites started in Egypt and had to journey to the Promise Land, we often start a fair distance away from where God wants us and we have to journey to our Promise Land.

No one knows the exact route the Israelites took to the Promise Land but scholars estimate it should have taken approximately one month (give or take) walking on a direct route to reach the land.  Instead, the Israelites spent the next 40 years wondering through the desert. And it wasn't because they were enjoying the process!!!

Not three days after their miraculous escape from the Egyptians, the Israelites were ready to turn around and go back.  You see the journey to the Promise Land was hard! Way harder than they thought it would be.  You see the journey to the Promise land is rarely easy.  It wasn't back then and it isn't today.  And regardless of how awful our old life may have been there is something about the familiarity of it that one begins to crave when the journey is long and hard.  

Yes, life with the Egyptians sucked.  But walking through a desert with no water was no picnic either.  And the Israelites figured at least they knew what to expect from the Egyptians, no dream of a better life, no  promise of a better land, could comfort the pain they were facing on the journey. 

Can you relate to that?  I absolutely can!!!  The past two and a half years have been a journey to MY Promise Land.  And there are days it is harder than I ever could have imagined!  There are so many days I want to give up, go back to what I knew before - no books, no papers, plenty of time for my family and friends.  But I know that isn't where God wants me.  That is not where I will find fertile fields and abundant harvests.  That is not the place God has always planned for me to be.  And the journey to this Promise Land, though hard, is part of God's plan for me.  

The journey to YOUR Promise Land is part of God's plan for you too.  I don't know where you are today, perhaps you are already in your Promise Land, if you are, I am so happy for you!   Enjoy it, live it well.  You are right where you are meant to be!  But if you're not, are you willing to consider where your Promise Land might be?  Are you willing to start the journey?  It won't be easy, I don't say that to discourage you, because this is a journey you absolutely must make.  But I want to be honest, it will be hard.  But it will also be so very, very worth it.  

It is time, join me on a journey to the Promise Land.  It's where God has always planned for you to be!

Christmas in the Eyes of a Child

“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven?”  He called a little child and had him stand among them.  And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom.”   Matthew 18: 1-4

Not all of us are men and not all of us are women, but each of us, at one time, was a child.  Many of us still act like we are!  So it should be easy for us to put ourselves in the perspective of a child right?  But it’s not.  It can be so difficult to see Christmas, to see Christ like a child, yet so vitally important, that it is mentioned in the bible not only in the Matthew 18, but again in Matthew chapter 19, a third time in Mark chapter 10 and a fourth time in Luke chapter 18.  In deed, it is more than difficult for a mature adult who has seen and heard too much of a hostile world to look at Christ, to look at Christmas, and to simply believe with the innocence and faith of a child. 

Yet Scripture is clear, in order to enter into the kingdom of heaven we have to receive it like a little child.  Why like a child?  What did Jesus see in children that so endeared them to him?  

Kid have a way of seeing the world that we adults somehow lose as we age. They possess this blind faith that what they have been told (especially by those they love) is true, they don't doubt what Mom and Dad say.  They have a kind of eternal hope that good will always win, that life is fun and fair and just.  Because of this eternal hope they have an overwhelming joy, sadness never lasts long and tomorrow will always be better than today.  So how can we, as jaded adults, look at Christmas through the eyes of a child?

When I asked my friends, family, kids, anyone I could get ahold of what Christmas meant to a child I got essentially  three distinct types of answers. 

I.  Presents

Is anyone surprised that the number one answer was presents?  There is no doubt that to all children Christmas gifts is a huge and imperative part of Christmas. And if you will allow yourself to admit it even adults eagerly anticipate the opening of presents.  The thing about a present is the mystery behind it.  You look at a gift that is all wrapped up and you take in the size and the weight and any sound it might make when shaken (gently) and you can make an educated guess about what may be in it. But you don’t actually know for certain.  Until that gift is open it could literally be anything in the world, your imagination is the only limit.  It’s especially true in my family, that the biggest gift may be in the smallest box and the smallest gift is almost always in the biggest box.  A gift that is light, will have rocks added to it, if a gift is so big or heavy that it can’t be wrapped at all then a note is wrapped (with a weight inside it) sending the recipient on a wild goose chase to find it.   Until the paper is off you can never tell what a gift might be.

Christ was a lot like that.  His greatness was hidden beneath the packaging.  Even though Isaiah, in the old testament gave us amazing insight into what to look for when the Messiah came, still people wondered, how could THIS baby be a king.  We know from Isaiah 9:6 that the son of David would come to us as a baby…  We even know from Isaiah 7:14 that the child would be born to a virgin. And in 9:7, Isaiah continues with predictions of the greatness this child will fulfill, His kingdom will never end! So with all this insight, why is it so hard to conceive that this humble little baby, born in stable, in a quiet night, was indeed the coming king, the son of God.  It had to be the packaging. He was so well wrapped that you couldn’t even fathom what he really was. 

And the bible says  "She...wrapped him in swaddling clothes.’’ Those are wonderful words. But there was more wrapped up in those swaddling clothes than a little baby.

Now he is a little Baby in Mary’s arms wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger, but soon, He will confound the pharisees in the Temple. He will be introduced and baptized by John. He will work miracles and call disciples. He will die on a cross, be buried in a borrowed tomb, and be resurrected the third day. He will ascend to the Father to become our Intercessor, Advocate, Mediator and great High Priest. 

No one could have guessed the magnificence of that gift that was wrapped up in an infant in swaddling clothes.  Christ was and still is the most amazing gift that has ever been given.  And only a child could look at a gift like that, it’s size, shape, and weight and see in it all the greatness that was to come.  

II.  Wonder/Awe

 Have you ever seen a child’s face light up the first time they see the Christmas lights go on for the year.  It is the definition of awe.  Their eyes get big, literally reflecting the lights they see around them, their mouths drop open, but no words come out, and for a few seconds the whole body is perfectly still.  No small feat for a busy child. I imagine that’s what the shepherds look liked the first time they laid eyes on the Christ child.   They were there, the only ones to join Mary and Joseph at the time of Christ’s birth, an ordinary birth with extra-ordinary outcome.  And isn’t it the truth that children have a spiritual gift for finding the extraordinary out of the everyday ordinary.  

One of the mistakes we adults make at Christmas is that we get so caught up in the busyness of the “Holiday” that the people we encounter lose their extraordinary qualities. People become just ordinary, like grains of sand. The cashier becomes a hand that has money in it. The clerk becomes a voice with information. And the child becomes the inconvenience that always wants something.  And we fail to see the message of Christmas that God comes into our world & says, "Ordinary people are never just ordinary." When God touches them they become special, created in God’s image - And it’s perfect, just perfect.  For whatever reason, children are able to see the extraordinary, long after adults have lost that vision.  They see it all with the wonder and awe that we have lost.  Maybe that is one of our problems with Christmas. Christmas is such a familiar & common experience that we almost miss it. So this year I challenge you to see it again for the first time with the wonder and awe of a child.  Turn an ordinary light into an extraordinary splendor, turn an ordinary birth into the extraordinary miracle that saved us all.

III.  Innocence

When Christ talks about children in Matthew, in Mark and again in Luke he asks us to become like them.  Knowing how difficult it is, he calls us to embrace him with the faithfulness and innocence of a child.   

What does that innocence look like?  This week I got an email from a friend of mine and it was labeled “Children’s definition of Love” and among many other definitions was this one from a young boy named Bobby, age 7 “Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.”  Bobby, at a tender age of 7, gets it.

Children choose to believe the story of Jesus birth not because they have seen it or touched it or have witnessed miracles themselves.  But simply, because they were told.  Someone they love, their father, their mother, their neighbor, or their Sunday school teacher told them a story.  And because someone they love told it to them, they believe.  That is faith.  Someone You love is telling you the story too.  Your Father in heaven, who loves you very much, is telling you.  And He is asking you to believe.  Just believe with the faithfulness and innocence of a child.

For me, all I have to do is look at an orange and I can find the innocence of Christmas through the eyes of myself as a child.  You see down in this tiny farm town in the middle of Kansas where I grew up, Christmas Eve was spent at church.  That’s when the children of First Mennonite Church put on their annual Christmas Eve program.  It was pretty much the same scene every year.  Someone read the passage from Luke; there were the leading roles of Mary and Joseph, some shepherds, a few angels and 3 wisemen.  We sang Hark the Herald Angels, Away in a Manger and Silent Night, we all lit candles and were filled with awe at the wonders of it all and then as everyone was heading home on Christmas Eve night the church gave an orange to everyone who attended.  Why an orange?  I truly have no idea! Honestly, no clue!  I’m not sure when it started but I know they have done it every year since I was a child and I know they still do it.  And because of that, because of that tradition, when I see an orange I see a Christmas scene, full of innocence, wonder and awe, in a dimly lit church full of glowing candles with a choir singing Silent Night and children on a stage dressed up like the holy nativity.  The picture of innocence.

What is it about children that endeared themselves to Jesus? Certainly they are cute. Certainly they are innocent in their understanding of life. But what impressed Jesus always was their faith… Maybe that’s why Jesus came as a babe in a manger – born innocent and full of faith he remained that way all of his life. The faith of a child is what you must gain to enter the kingdom of heaven. The surest sign of growing old gracefully is one who refuses to become jaded and cynical about life and people. Jesus never did and neither should we.


I urge you this Christmas, to look at it through the eyes of a child.  The way Christ calls us too.  Look for your own signs of Christmas they are all around.   You might find Christ in an unopened gift, beautiful Christmas lights, a child’s Christmas program, or an orange.  Whatever Your sign for Christmas may be, I hope you find it with the innocence, the miracle, the awe of a child.  Merry Christmas and God bless you.

Where God Wants Me To Be

I had a moment with God today.  Actually this moment has been stewing for quite some time now.

There is a restlessness inside of me, questioning where I am at and what I am doing.  It was bound to happen, I am just wrapping up my 6th semester of seminary. I have been going strong for 2.5 years and am just about half way.  As quickly as the last few years have gone, the road ahead still seems endless, like the finish will never come.  I will be stuck in this place of waiting forever.

Have you ever been in a place of waiting?  This is not my first time and it hasn't gotten any easier.  Erik and I had trouble carrying a baby to term (okay, technically I was the one with trouble carrying, but Erik was right there beside me on the journey).  We had two miscarriages before we had Isabella, add to that the months in between of waiting to be healthy again, trying to conceive, losing again, waiting again...you get my drift.  I have been stuck in the never ending cycle of waiting before, it's not unfamiliar.  And honestly I don't think it's the waiting that is getting to me this time.

I knew this journey wasn't going to be easy.  Graduate school work is never easy.  I knew there would be tons of reading, long papers to write, assignments I loved and assignments I didn't.  I knew the school side of things would be hard.  And it is.  One of the most academically challenging things I have ever done.  But again, that's no surprise, that is not what I'm struggling with.

And sadly, I have actually gotten kind of use to the loneliness, this process of studying is turning me into somewhat of an introvert (heaven help me!).  It turns out solitude is actually not so bad.  The loneliness is not what is overwhelming me, it's there, but I have learned to manage that.

The thing that I am struggling with the most, the thing that right now is the hardest for me, is what this process is costing my family.  I'm okay with the sacrifices I am having to make.  I made this choice and I am willing to do the work.  What I am less okay is what my family is being forced to sacrifice.  We made the decision when the kids were very young that I would stay at home with them. I have identified myself as a mom for 12 years now, that is who I am, that is what God has asked me to do.  I gave up my career, extra money, peace of mind, and showering on a regular basis to stay at home with me kids.  I have honestly never regretted that decision.  I have been gotten to be there for all my kids firsts from words to waling to preschool to kindergarten and beyond.  I have been someone's class room mom for 7 years now, I have been on countless field trips, volunteered in classrooms and hosted playdates.

Unitl now.

I am no longer the mom I have always wanted to be.  I am still a mom absolutely, but not in the way I want to be.  I don't have time to volunteer in the classrooms any more.  The last 2 years I have missed more field trips than I have made.  My kids have less playdates because I am too busy to set them up.  Our house is rarely clean, I don't always have time to make dinner, let alone serve a friend by making them dinner.  I don't have time to hang out not the drive way with other moms or go grab lunch.  I'm no longer a stay at home mom.  But we don't have the luxury of two incomes either.

In fact we have less income than we did before as we juggle the expense of school.  My family is being cheated out of my time, my energy and the families money.  They are sacrificing heavily.  And I am frustrated because I don't see this ending any time soon.

So I finally sat down and unloaded all this with God.  I cried.  He listened.  I cried some more.  And then He spoke.  Do you know what he said?  He told me, "I've got this."  He's got my children, he's got my husband and he's got our finances. He's got this. And then He said, "Don't you trust me?"

And that is the question.

That has been the question since I started this journey.  Do I trust God?  Do I trust that this is plan for me and that his plan is always better than my plan?  Do I trust him that the end result will be worth the journey?  Do I trust him that he loves my kids more than I do and he wouldn't call me to do something that ultimately hurt them?  Do I trust Him?

Do I?

Yeah,  I do.

I don't know what tomorrow, or next month or next year will look like.  While I guess I kind of do, I'll still be in school spending all my free time studying, reading and writing papers, because that is where God wants me right now. And my kids will have a little less of me than I would choose.  But they will see me being obedient.  They will see me making sacrifices, and they will learn for themselves what it means to make sacrifices.  They will learn that money is a limited commodity and obedience is always more important than our own selfish desires.

So maybe this isn't exactly where I want to be right now, or where I want my family to be, but I am absolutely certain that this is right where God wants us to be.

Will They Ever Know?

Being a parent is the single hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life!

Far harder than my own adolescence, far harder than setting off on my own, far harder than learning how to navigate that first year of marriage.

Raising kids. It. Is. Hard.

One of my kids got hard news today.  They wanted something, worked hard for something and thought they would get it, but they didn't.  And it hurt.  It made them cry.

Honestly, it made me cry too.

To see my kid hurt and NOT be able to fix. Hardest. Thing. Ever.

Don't get me wrong.  I have seen my kids cry before.  I have even made them cry before.  I am not a "You want it, you can have it!" kind of mom.  I know my kids will face hard times.  I know that it is the hard times that will ultimately draw them closer to God.  I want them close to God so I must, therefore, want them to go through hard times.  But recognizing that with my head and living with that in my heart are two very different things!

The hardest part, the very hardest part is that this kiddo processes things internally, they won't talk about, the more I react, the harder it is for them.  So I will smile and pretend everything is okay and we won't talk about it, not till this child is ready.

But in the mean time, behind closed doors.  I will cry.  Because my child is sad, and I can't make it better.

Will they ever know?

Will they ever know that I cry EVERY SINGLE TIME they cry?

Will they ever know that everything they worried about, I worried about more?

Will they ever know that every dream they had, I dreamt for them too?

Will they ever know there were nights I snuck into their room just to watch them sleep, thanking God that I got to be their momma, even when it was the hardest thing I ever did!?

Will they ever know?

Will they ever know I fought for them, with every breath I had, from the moment they were conceived until the day I die?

Will they ever know how many hours of sleep I gave up, how many meals I ate cold, how many miles I drove, how much I willingly sacrificed just for them?

And will they ever know that I would gladly do it all again?

I wonder if they will ever know.

Will the Rocks Cry Out?

I have been a Kansas girl all my life.  Even for the five short years I lived all of two miles across the state line on the Missouri side of Kansas City, I still told people I was from Kansas.  

I attended the University of Kansas, so of course I cheer for the Jayhawks.

I currently live in one of the Kansas suburbs of Kansas City, so of course I cheer for the Chiefs.

But one of my favorite teams, one of my very favorites teams, has always been the Royals!!!  I grew up listening to nearly every game the Kansas City Royals played on am radio, thanks to my brother and my dad.  I was a little girl when the Kansas City Royals won the World Series in 1985 and I bet I could have told you the entire starting line-up that year!  Willie Wilson was my personal favorite!

It's really no surprise then that my boy's play baseball, both of them.   We attended 50+ little league games last summer alone!  My ten year old's team is of course... the Royals!!! 

The past few weeks have been absolutely amazing here in the KC area, well, all throughout Kansas quite honestly.  We were lucky enough to have tickets to the postseason games and I got to go to two of the games with the kids.  As I took in all the sights and sounds of the final game in the American League Championship, it was something I will never forget.  The crowed went absolutely wild!  40,000 people were cheering, shouting and screaming, united in a single victory,a common conquest, sharing in the triumph of one team.  Strangers embraced, grown men cried, the whole city rejoiced!

I screamed too, jumped up and down, hugged my kids, and high-fived some strangers.  Then I took a step back and just watched.  And I found myself wondering why it takes a sports team to get this kind of reaction from a crowd.

As amazing as this post season has been, and it HAS BEEN AMAZING!!  It's a moment in time.  Next year, it will be another team in the lime light and this will be a story we tell.  Yes, Royals fans have waited a long time for this, I know, I'm one of them.  But there is something else I have been waiting my whole life for.  Something the whole creation has been waiting nearly 2000 years for, the coming of a King.  Do you think He will get the same reaction?  I don't think He will.

Last Wednesday night, the city of Kansas City went wild, we cried out, we rejoiced... for a sports team.  Would the King of Kings get the same reaction?

When Jesus entered the street of Jerusalem for the last time, his disciples, the multitude that followed him and adored him cried out, they rejoiced and when the Pharisees told Jesus to make them be quiet, His reply was, "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out."  

There were no stones crying out last Wednesday, not in Kansas City.  Would we rejoice the same if it wasn't a sport's team but the one true King? Or would it be up to the rocks to cry out?

When Miracles Don't Come

Last week our church laid to rest a young mom.  A mom who had battled cancer for the last three years of her life.  A mom who left behind behind a husband, a six year old daughter and a four year old son.  

A few weeks prior to this, in a completely separate conversation, someone asked me if I thought God still performed miracles.  

I told her, "Yes! I absolutely believe in miracles!"

Do I still think that today?

Yes.  I really do.  But I also recognize that it is not always in God's will to heal.

Some of you may nod your heads and agree with that statement.  And some of you may see red and get spitting mad. That's okay.  I get that. I do.

How could it possibly be "God's will" for a child to lose a mother or a husband to lose a wife?  Honestly? I don't know.  I don't pretend to understand why God does what He does.  Why God allows what He allows.  I don't understand why there is so much loss and pain in this world.  I only know there is.  

I also know God never leaves us nor forsakes us (Hebrews 13:5).  I know God is our refuge and strength in times of trouble (Psalm 50:15 and 62:8).  I know that in Him is a peace that passes understanding (Phil 4:7).  I know His word is true and He keeps His promises.  

There was a time in my life, years ago, when I fell to my knees and cried out to God for a miracle.  But that miracle never came.  I know what it feels like when God chooses not to answer your prayer.  I know what it feels like to believe in a God you know is perfectly capable of healing, perfectly capable of performing miracles; and yet have to live with the aftermath of a dream shattered, the absence of a miracle, the loss when healing didn't come.  I know what that feels like.

And though I can accept those moments, share my grief (and sometime even anger) with God and lean on Him in the turmoil that follows; I would be lying if I said the question of "Why?" never entered my mind. 

Sometimes, I am able to understand the "Why?" given enough time and distance.  Other times, I'm not.  I still have no answer to give when someone comes to me with a heavy heart asking why God didn't do what they know he is capable of doing.

In my seminary reading this week Richard Rohr, a catholic priest, wrote something to this effect...  Jesus never healed for the sake of healing.  The miracles Jesus performed, all of them, were always about, and always will be about, inner transformation.  People today cry out to God and ask for healing, but have no interest in the inner transformation that must go along with it.  

So I looked back at many of Jesus's healings and it turns out, Rohr is right.  Jesus healed not so bodies would be healthy but so souls would be saved.  When I cried out to God for my miracle years ago, the one that never came, I wasn't crying out for transformation, I wasn't interested in inner change.  I was calling out for my wants.  Legitimate, God honoring wants, but wants all the same.  In the 12 years since the night I spent on my knees, I have been more transformed by His faithfulness, His love and His devotion to me, than I ever would have been had He performed a miracle that night.  

I will never fully understand why God takes a child before their life has been fully lived.  I will never fully understand why God would take a young mother from a family that desperately needs her.  But these are things God never intended for me to fully understand;  that is why it is called faith.  I have to have faith that His way is best.  I have to have faith that His plan is perfect, even when it makes no sense to me.  I have to have faith that "ALL the ways of the Lord are loving and faithful" (Psalm 25:10), even when it's not the way I want things to be.  

God is gracious and compassionate (Neh 9:17), don't forget that.  Even when the miracle doesn't come.