I have read many a Mommy Blog...

...that has railed against the older, nosy woman who smiles at you and your screaming child in the Target check-out line and says something cliche like, "Enjoy every moment; they grow up so fast!" To which the Mommy Blogger replies, "How am I supposed to enjoy this moment? This is exhausting! Can I not look forward instead to better days when my kid uses manners, ties his own shoes and stops throwing food on the floor?!" And all us tired mommies out there breathe a collective, "Amen."

I get it. I totally do. I have a two and a half year old who has taken to throwing himself on the floor and grasping at furniture legs to avoid being dragged into bed at night. He has almost zero interest in potty training and repeats already-answered questions with supernatural persistence. This particular stage has its challenges. But while I can understand the aforementioned Mommy's frustration, I think the over-reaching granny in Target is missing the more startling reality. We are not called to enjoy each moment because children grow up so quickly; we should savor them because THERE MAY BE NO MORE MOMENTS.

Do you get that? Do you?

If you have spent much time with me over the last year, you have probably heard me talk about this. There was a time when Luke was still in the NICU last summer, and John and I were home with Jack. Jack tumbled off our bed and landed really awkwardly on his neck. He had fallen off our bed once before, but this fall was worse. And though I am not prone to do so, I gasped and ran to his side, examining him carefully before cradling him in my arms. With tears in my eyes, I looked up and told John, "We are so concerned for Luke right now, but we could lose Jack first."

I have thought of and spoken about this incident often. It is not intended to be dark and morbid, but rather a reminder of the reality in which we live. NOTHING IS GUARANTEED.

"Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring." 

Proverbs 27:1

No, I don't think we all need to sit down and write a bucket list and spend the rest of our time and energy trying to complete some crazy set of goals. Too often, our ambitions become wholly selfish and altogether unfulfilling. No, this isn't a call to change everything about your lives. Instead, be careful of your perspective.

John and I knew from the beginning of last year that there was significant risk in Luke's life. There was a constant timeline to his days that always looked too short. There were at least two very dark periods in his seven months outside the womb during which we truly recognized we would say goodbye to our son much sooner than we desired. But during the bulk of his breathing days, we lived with a hope that we could plan for the future. At the start of 2015, we were anticipating 3 major surgeries and were trying to plan them around a family vacation and other minor events. Even on the day of his death, I wrote an email to family excitedly speaking of bringing him home that week. We were looking ahead to a future. Throughout all of this, though, we knew no future on earth was promised.

Despite this knowledge, there was really nothing that prepared us for Monday night. We have had the phone calls before when a doctor beckons us to come to the hospital as soon as possible. For no good reason at all, they have often happened late at night. But the phone call at 5 pm was noticeably different. When a nurse cannot tell you over the phone what has happened, I understand to expect the worst.

I cannot say if the pain of losing my child is lessened because I knew his days were numbered. I cannot say this because I have no other experience with which to compare. I do know that this grief is heavy to bear, and I would not wish it any worse. I do harbor a couple of regrets, one of which is not having a true family photo. I am praying to be free of that regret because it is ultimately meaningless. We did not love Luke any less by not taking photo. But maybe I'll be better about taking a quick second to capture a moment with Jack. It has been freeing this week to fill up my photo stream with snapshots of Jack and his cousins and friends. We certainly have no shortage of wonderful photos and videos of our smiling Luke.

I will always wish we had more.

I know this is an idea I will impress as frequently as I am given opportunity, but for now I can expand no more. Be careful your perspective. Be thankful always. Find joy in seemingly joyless moments. Simply because you can. And as often as you are able, surround yourself with others who will share in your celebrations and in your sorrows.

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances...May God himself, the GOD OF PEACE, sanctify you through and through. The one who calls you is faithful, and He will do it."

1 Thessalonians 5, excerpts