I was going to write something light hearted today. I don’t want this blog to be heavy all the time because we have so much to put our hope in. I have a post in the works that includes photos of Emmy and Claire doing “medical play” at the hospital and giving hugs to their baby brother. I’m going to publish it this week, but I just can’t stop thinking about what else happened yesterday.

I’ve asked a lot of life’s most difficult questions over the past several months, and have spent a lot of time reading, writing, studying, and praying about the answers. A lot of my questions have given birth to new ones, and I may never have answers to them all. I will say, though, that the answers I’ve found have brought my heart and mind a great deal of comfort and have allowed me to rest in my faith. Yesterday, I was faced with a unexpected question that has caused me a lot of unrest. What should I say when I look into the eyes of parents who are leaving the hospital empty handed?

All the answers in the world don’t make that feel alright. It was horrific. Every word that came to my mind, out of my mouth, sounded trite in face of their loss. What would I want someone to say if it were us? Probably nothing.

I don’t think there is any good answer for what to say to someone after they’ve experienced a tragic loss. I think the answer lies in what you’ve said, and how you loved, leading up to these moments, before tragedy comes.

None of us know when tragedy will come.

Love and speak now as you would wish to love and speak in the midst of loss. When that time comes, your past will speak through your presence, and being there will be enough. I wish I would have shown more love to Deb and Shane before Leah passed away. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt the need to say much of anything at all.