A Moment of Serious Reflection

Not even sure how to write about what's been on my mind all weekend. When I read that Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter had been killed in a tragic accident, my first thought was "nonononononono," or something equally indicative of total denial.

Because it is unthinkable, to lose a child. And to lose a child like that, at the hands of a family member, magnifies the tragedy to epic proportions. What they must feel, the anguish of loss, the self-recrimination, the guilt that so often goes hand-in-hand with this parenting gig, the desperate, desperate desire to just rewind that day and have their little one restored to life, and the terrible certainty that had they just done something different, it wouldn't have happened at all -- however untrue that feeling might be.

This same thing happened to a woman I was attending a Bible study with about 5 years ago: her husband was moving some brush on their property with a mini-front loader and backed over their 3 year old son, killing him instantly. They were interviewed for a newspaper article about a year ago, an article that profiled several families in our state who have been victims of this kind of accident -- something that happens with frightening frequency -- and they said that they will never be the same, though they believe their little one is with God. There is a hole in their family that is always there, and as their other children get older and larger, that child, who will be forever 3, is as much present in their thoughts as the ones who are playing soccer and performing in dance recitals.

And I imagine the Chapman's teenaged son, who was driving the SUV that struck her, feels like his life is over. His burden will be a heavy one, and there will be no easy way to lighten it save time itself. This is what makes me really wish Life gave Mulligans -- just the odd do-over from time to time. How much sadness would be saved if we could just take back a minute or two here and there.

Life is, as they say, alarmingly fragile. And we are all too apt to take it for granted, completely forgetting how an instant can change things forever.

Hug your babies today. Read to them. Enjoy the 6,000th bath you're giving them. Treasure their goofy faces and silly sayings. Oddly, it was Steven Curtis Chapman who wrote about the "miracle of the moment" -- each one is a gift and it's by no means certain we'll have as many of them as we think.