Their pre-teen baby died after a year-long battle with Lymphoma. Her favorite color was hot pink. Her most favorite thing was life. Their toddler baby died in the cold, deep-end of the pool in winter. They had forgotten to close the gate.

Their baby was hit by a drunk driver who still doesn’t remember the impact because he was so high.

Their baby died of an overdose in an alley, her hair crawling with lice.

Their baby died before it was ever born. It was their fourth child that had failed to thrive. They are running out of baby names. And burial spots. And hope.

What can we do when we suffer the loss of all things? How can we go on when our joy is swallowed up whole by sorrow? What happens when the most sacred thing is torn from our lives?

I don’t know.

But God knows what it means to suffer the loss of all things. He knows the tsunami of grief that roars over a parent who loses a beloved child.

God knows what it means to have what is most cherished cut down and trampled under the foot of irreverent evil. He will never forget the image of his own son pierced and alone as he breathed his last.

And so I pray for God’s own broken heart to bind up the brokenhearted today. For his own wounds, and ours too, to wrap around those who have suffered the loss of their most precious thing and who will never be the same.

And I pray that those who grieve will know they are held securely in the arms of a Heavenly Father who loves them, and keeps them, and promises his presence until every sacred and beloved thing is made well.

All my sincere love.

Kim