If you read Sister's post yesterday, you know that Connor, her 7 year old was stung by almost a dozen wasps Wednesday night. I talked to Sister several times on Thursday to check on Buggy-Bug (Connor's nick-name, shortened from Connor-Bug) and knew that his poor little body was quite swollen. So Thursday evening after Brant's softball games, I went over to Sister's to see him. Words cannot describe how swollen and discolored his poor legs and face were - you literally hurt to look at him. When I got there Sister told me that she was debating on taking him in for a steroid shot, and I agreed that she should. Since Michael was home, I said I would go with her. So, me, Sister and Buggy loaded into my car and headed for the Neighborhood Doctor, where Amanda knows the on-call physician.
On the way there, Amanda was explaining to Buggy where we were going and that he should feel better soon. Now Connor is an extremely inquisitive child and is always asking questions, but I was never prepared to hear him ask "Mommy, will I die?"
I am not a parent. I long to be, but I am not yet. Maybe this was why I have never had to explain life and death to my child. Tears stung my eyes as I listened to my sister tell her son, that yes, one day we will all die, but we will get to meet Jesus when we do. I listened to my sister tell her son how much she loved him, but that Jesus loved him even more than she did.
My prayers last night were different than they ever have been before. I prayed that I would have the strength my sister does to explain truth to her children. I prayed that the Father would give the words to speak when my children ask the tough questions. I prayed that I will show my children how much I love them, but even more that I can simply help them understand the love that Jesus has for them.