Yesterday I was folding laundry. That actually is momentous enough to stand alone, but not the focal point today. I was folding laundry and watching Little Lady play and sing and dance around the room all full of joy and life and I was thinking about how fast it is flying by. She is so big. And in my mind, the numbers all started adding up and then it all clicked into place and I dropped the shirt in my hands and just stood there staring at my sweet girl who has been on this earth now for nine days longer than her big brother every got to be.
I knew it was coming soon, but I wasn't ready for it and all the complicated everything that comes with it. Because first of all, THANK GOD she outlived him, since he died at three. Because don't think I ever have the luxury of looking my sweet kids who seem so healthy and perfect and not wonder what could be lurking in their bodies undetected. It is a fear that I fight against every single day. And I will not let it win and I will not live in fear and allow it to rob me of the gift of life.
But then, she's only three years, three months and twenty days old. And she's already lived longer than he did. It splits my heart wide open all over again.
I've got ten butterflies on my dining table right now. They are in a butterfly tent, right next to my computer as I type this out. They all hatched yesterday and the day before and it's been an amazing process to watch their transformation. While reading up on them, it mentioned that they only live about two weeks once they become butterflies. Two weeks. Such a short life.
The calloused and jaded side of me instantly wondered what's the point? What's the point when its so short? When all they are doing is living long enough to lay eggs and then die. But I've been watching them all day and they are so beautiful. They are kinda crazy, too. I can't believe how hard it is for them to fly. They keep flipping over and falling down and getting stuck partway under the plate holding their fruit and flowers. Honestly, it's a little stressful watching them. But they are just so dang beautiful.
I'm not sure how to tie this all together. I've never wondered what the point of Jameson's short life is. He was my boy and his point was to be love on this earth. And he loved like a boss. The point of his life was always crystal clear.
I will always struggle with the brevity of it all though. It's easy to be okay with the shortness of the butterflies' lives. I can see how they are a part of the food chain and hear Elton John singing "The Circle of Life" in my mind (you're welcome) and separate myself enough to feel little more than a minute of sadness at the idea of them leaving so soon.
But Jameson? That one is not easy. I can't step away from the gaping hole in my heart and soul. I can't look at my senior dogs and think how they've outlived my son four times over. And I can't be okay with it. It will never be a thing where I can see all the good that maybe has come from it and ever say it was worth it.
Maybe someday when I get to Heaven, God will show me why it had to happen that way. Maybe we'll walk through the woods together and He will hold my hand and look me in the eye and maybe then, where death is banished, maybe then it will be okay. But not here.
It is a struggle. And I don't know how I can reconcile my faith when I read verses in the Bible that say "It is the Lord who gives life and death, who casts into the grave and raises up." 1 Samuel 2. But just like I wrote way back in December of 2010 when the doctors all said we have to let him go, I truly do believe God is good all of the time. But how can He be good when people like Hitler get to grow up and people like Jameson don't and He is the one who decides? This is where that faith thing comes in. The faith card seems like a cop out. I know it does. I can't explain it well. But over the years, I can honestly say that God has proven Himself to be trustworthy. I trust Him.
As I sit here, watching my butterflies and picking out all the marshmallows from my organic lucky charms (seriously, why do they even bother including the cereal), I don't know what else to say? There is too much to say, too many things to think about and so little time to process it all and write it all out. And this topic on faith and trust and death, well, I'll be working on this one for the rest of my life.