When the Song Stops

It is happening.  My 2 year old is beginning to realize that the world can be a sad and scary place beyond her crocodile tears when she doesn’t get a candy right before supper. 

Ironically, it has been kids’ movies that have made her especially aware of deep loss.  Lion King was her first taste of it.  She watched Simba weep as he tried desperately to wake his trampled daddy, and then she watched him curl up in a defeated ball cuddled as close to his daddy as he could get for one last time.  Myla’s eyes were glued to the TV and wide as saucers.  All the while she was repeating in her littlest big-girl voice,

 “He wants his daddy.  Mommy, what happened to his daddy?  He wants his dad”.   

What do you say to that?

“Honey, he got stepped on.  Now he’s dead.  Simba doesn’t have a daddy anymore.” 

Really?! 

The next event that blatantly exposed Myla to loss was Finding Nemo.  Nemo’s mom and dad are blissfully flirting with each other and admiring their multitude of soon-to-hatch babies when his mom and siblings are suddenly gobbled up by a horribly ugly and terrifying monster-fish.  For the next 15 minutes in the movie, Myla was asking where Nemo’s mommy was.   The cherry on top of the cake came when Nemo got stolen and separated from his daddy too. 

As her mom I want to protect Myla and make her life happy.  This new awareness of sadness and loss has been a bit heartbreaking for me to watch.  My instinct is to shield her.  Hide away with her.  And always play happy music and dance with her.  But then the song stops and I realize that I can’t do that.  I must let her feel the pain.

Beyond the movies that made Myla put on her seriously sad puppy-dog face and look to Brad and I for answers about where the lost dad and moms went, Myla has started crying giant silent tears while watching a World Vision commercial and while I sang Robert Munsch’s “Love you Forever” song to her. 

As I’m writing this, my own heart is feeling raw and achy, and my eyes are stinging for the tears I’ve shed in the last couple of days.  These tears aren’t for a hypothetical situation displayed in a Disney movie.  These tears are for the very real pain and fear that my sister-in-law’s closely knit family is feeling as result of a sudden and unexpected severe stroke that their dear wife and mom suffered.  These tears are for one of the most dreaded events that could happen in this broken life.

While I shed tears and shared hugs with my sister and brother-in-law this past weekend  I also saw an incredible testimony of love as an entire community wrapped themselves with care, prayers, and help for this family in need.  I also saw that our young kids’ joy and happiness remained largely intact as we openly struggled with questions and unknowns. 

In those rawest instances of brokenness and pain, I saw glimpse’s of the grace, love, and comfort that God promises he will provide in moments were we don’t have the strength to find that assurance on our own.  Although the pain and fear wasn’t gone, there remained a faith that both God and the love of surrounding this family would help each member of the family face another minute, another hour, another day.

So, I sit in deep reflection about the realness of this broken world.  I think about how Myla will inevitably see much more real pain than the sadness colourfully shown in The Lion King, Finding Nemo, or Bambi.  And she won’t have to confront this just once, but repeatedly in this life.  There is nothing I can do to stop the hurt.

What I can do is meet her in that dark place, wrap my arms around my girl, let her tears soak my shirt, and cry right along with her.  What I can do is show her that I care and that there’s Somebody even bigger who cares even more.  I can describe and point out places where love, comfort, and grace still exist even in the worst of times.  What I can do is remind her of the promise that although times may be impossibly hard here, we will one day belong to a place that is unbelievably perfect and beautiful. 

I don’t look forward to those hard times.  I wish they wouldn’t happen.  But when they do, I want to mirror the peace, hope, and comfort I saw demonstrated by a family and community this past weekend and I wish to exude just a glimpse of the powerful mercy that only our God can provide.

* I ask that you join me with fervent prayers concerning my sister-in-law’s family.  May God provide the miracle of peace that passes understanding and mercy to carry everyone through this extremely difficult time.