Passing Perspective

The other day while sitting in a restaurant with my family a lady silently appeared beside me gazing at my littlest.   At first I didn't even notice her next to me, even though our arms were just about touching.  She had knelt down beside the highchair and was lovingly gazing at my baby girl.  She started to gently talk to her and before I knew it the two of them were giggling at each other.

The lady turned to look at me and said, "She is so sweet, you have such a beautiful family."  As I thanked her I noticed the sincerity in her eyes and the kindness in her voice, she was offering me a genuine compliment. 

She turned back to Anareese and continued chatting with her and then without even looking at me she said, "Cherish every day with them."  After a moment of silence she continued again, "I leave tomorrow for Texas to bury my thirty-year-old son.  He was hit by an under aged drunk driver."  Her words were so gently spoken that I had to take a moment to process them in my mind.  

It was almost as if the words weren't even meant for me, just an extension of her inward thoughts that slipped out.  I was taken aback and felt speechless, what could I say that would even begin to sound sincere?  She took her hand and placed it on my arm and said, "I just keep seeing him like this, a sweet little baby."

I told her how sorry I was for her... but I wish I would have said so much more. I wish that I had asked his name and offered to pray for her, but I was still trying to put my thoughts together.  And before I realized it she had slipped away just as silently as she had appeared.  As I looked around the table at my children I felt so much heartache for her.  

Sitting there in my perfect organized chaos I was thankful for this passing perspective that I had just been offered.  I was no longer frustrated by the two glasses of water that had been spilled at the beginning of the meal or the children that kept changing their minds about what they would like to eat.  Suddenly all of these little annoyances were no longer sources of frustration for me, instead they had become reminders of my wonderful blessings.

God used a single moment and a complete stranger to remind me just how precious the gifts are that He has given to me. 

Dear Lord,

I don't know her name or her pain but you do.  I am asking you to comfort her today and everyday after as she continues to love her child with her empty arms. I pray she finds strength in You to carry on each day.

Amen

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" 

Mark 5:4