I don't cry. Ever. I haven't cried at least since I was 10. And I've had stuff to cry about. Tonight was one of those times when I wish I could. A 6th grader in my middle school group at church had a stroke this morning and can't feel anything on his right side. At the hospital the doctor's were talking about the prognosis and what they planned to do. It's way too soon to see if he'll fully recover or anything like that, but it was just so sad. I kept imagining it being my son laying there. I wouldn't know what to do.
Makes me think more about how much God loves me. He sent his son to suffer and die for me. To me the harder part of that is the suffering. I hate watching my children suffer, and the worst either of them has experienced is two stitches. Not beatings, ridicule, and crucifixion. I cannot imagine. JM