I took this picture not knowing the meaning it would hold for me less than 24 hours later. It’s a picture of my 12-year-old’s daughter’s room. As is.
Can you just see her life in there?
One glance at the picture and you can see who she is. She’s a free spirit. A lover of pink. A dreamer of Paris.
She’s also a mess. That’s why I took the picture. I took it to remind myself that one day she’ll grow up and move out and she’ll take the whole messy pink bundle of girlish charms with her. Her laughter. Her smile. Her joy. It will all grow up and move out on me one day. And I want to remember it all.
I chose not to fuss at her this time for the way her room looks, but she fussed at me for taking the picture. She fusses at me for a lot of things these days. She is twelve after all.
The next day I learned that someone else’s child was shot and killed at her church in Texas. Dozens more were killed simply by doing what my family does more than once a week–going to church.
I am so thankful to still have that ‘one day’ to look forward to.
Anytime tragedy strikes it causes us to reevaluate our lives a bit. Do your loved ones know that you love them? I mean, really? Have you done enough to teach and mold your children? Has your life made a difference to those around you? Are your priorities in line?
Perhaps tragedy makes you feel angry or frustrated. Maybe it causes you to spring into action to help those who are directly affected by what happened. Or maybe it happens so often that you have become desensitized to it. I know that has been my reaction many times, I am almost ashamed to admit it.
Somehow, this one hit home for me. I’ve lost track of the number of disasters and unspeakable acts of violence this year alone. But the news of innocent children murdered sitting next to their mothers? It’s too much. It’s too raw.
So, I look back at the picture I snapped the night before. I can practically breathe in the fragrance of my daughter. I can almost see her sitting there at her vanity doing her hair. And I can’t help but wonder if tragedy is around the corner for me too.
However, my peace lies within the knowledge that my child knows Jesus. She teaches me about Him a lot when she doesn’t even mean to. Does she stumble sometimes? Yes. Does she have a lot more to learn? Yes. I pray protection over my children every single day.
I know that God can allow some horrible trials to strengthen His people. None of us are immune to tragedy, but my child is immune to death.
This is what gets me through horrible news stories. The promise of eternal life for those that know Jesus like my child.
I’m not saying that people shouldn’t mourn over this tragedy or losing someone they love. It’s not even my child and I have wept. I’m saying that there is hope. Hope for grieving parents and a grieving congregation. Hope for a town that suddenly finds itself thrust into the national spotlight and making a mark in history for all the wrong reasons. There’s hope for a nation that just can’t seem to heal before another tragedy strikes.
You’ll find that hope nestled in the random picture I took of my daughter’s messy room. It’s sitting on her dresser. Do you see it? It’s a Bible. Between the two pink covers lies every answer to every problem you’ll ever face. It’s comfort. It’s hope. And it’s sitting in the midst of the mess we’ve made, just waiting for us to return to its promises.
Subscribe to Blog via Email