Real Reality Check

Stuff happens.  But usually it's way far away - like in Connecticut, or Colorado, or Arizona.  Anyplace that's far away both physically and emotionally.  Far enough away that whatever happened makes you feel sad, but your protective layer keeps you safe from real pain.  But then it hits a little closer.  And you realize, even just for a little bit, how much pain is possible.

A long time ago I took swimming lessons from a woman who pretty much scared the boo-jeebers out of me.  Why?  Because she was strict and no-nonsense, which are probably some of the best qualities when teaching a child to swim.  My best memory of those swimming lessons is the day that my swim class was sitting on the side of the pool, waiting impatiently for Mrs. Robson to come out and start our session.  At some point, somebody (no, not me - really) thought it would be a good idea if we got in the pool.  We all stayed close to the edge, but we all got in nevertheless.  A dumber idea was probably never hatched.  Mrs. Robson came out, and I do believe I remember lightening bolts coming out of every orifice in her red-faced head.  To say the least, she was not pleased.  To say the most - well, she did, giving us a lecture on pool safety that we would never forget, not for the long time we spent treading water listening to her - at least 36 hours (or so it seemed to us at the time).  But we learned to never go into a pool without supervision.  And I learned to swim, as did my siblings, and even my mother who didn't learn until she was an adult.  And I credit it all to Mrs. Robson.

Yesterday, Mrs. Robson died in a house fire, along with her caregiver and her grandson, both of whom died trying to rescue her from the burning building.  It happened in my hometown, and the tragedy has really hit home, literally.  While other tragic things have happened recently that have touched my heart, this has found a soft spot and hit with a sharp pain.  Someone that had a pivotal role in my upbringing has been lost tragically.  A classmate has lost her son, who died a hero rescuing his grandpa and going back for his grandma.  A family I know has had their hearts ripped out, and I mourn with them and for them.

I think of this tragic circumstance and realize how fragile and unpredictable life is.  How in just a second that which we hold dear can be swept away.   I think I realize how precious each minute we have is, but I wonder if that's even possible, since I do believe we can't always know how precious something is until we lose it.  All I know is that I can honor the memories of this precious family by trying to appreciate the precious experiences and memories of my own, by realizing I have been given the gift of time that the Robsons were not.

I pray for strength and comfort for Aimee, her husband, and their daughter as they try to make their way through this indescribable time.  I pray their memories somehow ease their pain in the days ahead.  And I pray that the love of God surrounds them and keeps them close, just as He holds Mrs. Robson and Sam, until they all meet again.

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The Good Stuff From Today:  safe, smooth flight to Orlando; room ready upon arrival; getting shoes for Lynnette and Molly; Molly's arrival in Orlando; nice volunteers at Expo; dinner with Steve