Our little extended family has taken some very hard knocks over the last month or two.
The death of baby Aseman in Iran. The house fire that claimed the life of a son in a family who had buried another of their children less than 2 years before. And now, sweet baby Iris, who has flown home to her heavenly Father.
My heart breaks a little more with every loss. I always had a deep compassion and empathy for those in pain, regardless of how well or how little I knew them.
But this...this goes much deeper than that. I never truly knew these families before their times of need. Yet, as my wonderful friend Annie said once, when you pray so hard for someone, you love them like your own.
My heart is broken. And although far be it for me to question God's plans and His infinite wisdom, I can't help but wonder, when will it end? When will our community, our extended family, stop being attacked from all sides?
We were not granted the miracle that we all prayed for so fervently. And as any mother of a baby who has undergone open heart surgery could tell you, what the Palma family has been through and continues to go through is the stuff that keeps us up at night, that keeps us hitting our knees again and again for our babies. This is what a nightmare looks like, friends.
Tonight, I am going to hug my precious one a little tighter and thank God that my personal nightmare did not come to pass. Then, after she fades into peaceful slumber, I will be on my knees, with tears on my face, praying for safe passage of one tiny girl's soul through the gates of Heaven and for two mamas who are going through something that no mother should have to.
What a beautiful angel you are going to be......