There is a house in my community that is full of children's toys. A tiny table and chair. Soft teddies and balls and a farmyard set.
But there are no babies. No kids. Just two parents with empty arms.
My dear friends have lost another baby, their third late term pregnancy loss. They buried their first, a full term, beautiful, perfect baby daughter in a tiny white coffin. They lost their second a year and a day ago. A little boy, also perfect, but too young for this world. And now, again, today, they lost another baby daughter. They have been waiting, praying and hoping. She has been on bed rest, struggling through mind numbing boredom and constant fear that this baby will be torn from her womb, too. He has been working full time, studying part time, and nursing her with gentle, constant love and attention.
Now the worst has happened. Their precious child came into this world this morning and stayed for just fifteen minutes, then left to spend eternity with her brother and sister. Her mother and father left the hospital with empty arms.
Her parents are devastated. Their family are devastated. The whole, tight knit community is devastated.
And I am left searching for meaning, for reason. Why? WHY? If there is a God with a bigger plan, how could this possibly be part of it? How can continuously breaking the hearts of two devout people be necessary to achieve the outcome He wants? Surely an all powerful deity, this God of Love, could find an easier, kinder way?
I wish I had a clever line to end this on, something to wrap it up neatly and leave you on a positive, but I don't. I just don't. I guess real life is just never neat.