I've been feeling weighed down lately with the pain and sadness all around me. I can't decide if I've become more aware of suffering with age or if there really is more of it going around lately.
A couple weeks ago I ran into a friend whose son recently died just minutes after birth. She asked me how Clara was doing and told me what a special girl she was. She started to cry, saying that I got to keep my angel baby with me and that her angel baby was watching from up in heaven. I was at a loss for words. Here I am expecting our third child and she lost her son the same day she met him for the first time. What could I say that would make that better?
And this isn't my only friend to have recently experienced heartache. Another lost a baby at 19 weeks and had to pack away all the items she'd collected for their first son. Another friend's sister-in-law died in a tragic accident while on vacation and left four young children motherless. This friend had to have conversations about death and heaven with her children much earlier than expected.
And most recently, I discovered a good friend I knew all growing up who is also expecting her third child, has been diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer. The tumor has spread to both ovaries and her uterus now. Her children are the same age as mine. She's 27 years old. I sobbed as I read her blog posts about visits with oncologists and test results. I couldn't help but remember how this time last year she was writing me, telling me how strong I was after all that had happened with Clara. The irony was too much. My experiences pale compared to hers.
I had been pondering all of these experiences of people I love for a few weeks when I learned of the shooting in Newtown, Connecticut. First of all, I couldn't believe it had really happened. And after the reality of it sank in, I thought of all the parents of those children. The images playing on the news were too much to handle. Parents sobbing, children crying and running away from the school. I can't imagine anything more horrific for all the people who lived through that.
I suppose the shooting was kind of the last straw for me. Combining all that grief and pain from all those experiences was a heavy load to bare. Why does life have to be so hard sometimes? As I continued to ponder that over the days following the shooting, I ran across the words of the hymn, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," which has always been one of my Dad's favorites. The third and fourth verses are particularly applicable:
And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth." I said,
"For hate is strong, and mocks the song
"Of peace on earth, good will to men."
"There is no peace on earth." I said,
"For hate is strong, and mocks the song
"Of peace on earth, good will to men."
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."
Though it may feel there is no peace on earth, 'God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.' What a comfort it is to know that wrong will fail and right will prevail. I'm grateful for the way trials strength us and bring us closer to God. I am so grateful for the Savior, who died that we might be perfected in him. And that because of His sacrifices, He personally understands our pain. What a perfect time of year to be reminded that Heavenly Father is so aware of us and on such a personal level. He is there. He is listening, and He knows what we are going through. That knowledge is such a blessing.
Till, ringing, singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!






































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