I had to go to a funeral yesterday.

I was kinda hoping that, like attending the funeral, I was going to be able to avoid writing about it.

It was a funeral for a 3 year old boy, a beautiful, perfect, innocent child that died of a freak it-was-no-ones-fault accident.

I want to find a reason.

I am not sure how this family would feel about me writing about my experience.

What is my experience? What little consequences is my experience with this?  Who am I?  No one, really, where this is concerned. . .

I feel like I know this family pretty well, the mother is the dearest sweetest lady.  This family has been to my home, supported me when AJ was born, we have seen each other at community events.  We share our mothering community.

I feel very little claim to the outrageous amount of emotion that this situation has torn from me, though.

What I do think this family would want, has communicated that they want, is for people to see the bigger picture, for good and growth and understanding to come from a desperately sad event.

I think what I heard my dear friend saying yesterday was to appreciate every moment, lean on God's strength in the struggles, and always always have faith in God's plan.

It is hard.  It don't want to.  I want to fight and punch and kick at the injustice of it all.  I want to wallow in the fear of it happening to me.

I will allow myself my questions - my doubts - my fear - my anger at the senselessness.

but I will also look at the extraordinary picture that is being painted; of my friend's commitment to her Faith, her children gone before her, her children here with her, and the life that has been chosen for her.

I will be rebuked, I will be in awe and I will be thankful that I had the chance to see that little boy smile at my son, that I have witnessed unconditional love through this family, and that I am privileged to have this experience as part of my journey.