Sacred and hard

I watched my greatest fear play out in the lives of our sweet friends this morning. Yet even with shattered hearts, their grace, goodness, vulnerability, honesty, light and mostly, their love, shined through. It was absolutely incredible to watch. And I couldn't quit weeping.

Do I know that their boy is safe and happy and protected and with his Father in Heaven and his Savior? Without question. Do I know that eventually every tear will be dried and all of this will be made okay in the end? Without a doubt.

And yet.

Even alongside that knowledge, this feels too hard. Like too much to ask of anyone and too much for a mother and a father and siblings and friends to have to lose. It feels heart-obliterating and life-altering and makes mortality seem cruel and cold and not worth living.

I believe those two truths can coexist. That this terrible tragedy doesn't need to be fixed or the perfect words shared or our friends told to focus only on the eventual good. We can trust God and still feel pain and hurt, the likes of which we didn't know was possible.

And that is why I sat in a room full of people today, all of us weeping together. Because God is good AND this incredible young man is no longer on earth. Because the Savior overcoming death means everything will eventually made right AND life feels so very long for Isaac's family right now. Because heaven is real AND losing a child feels like a version of hell here on earth.

Today was beautifully sacred and heartbreakingly hard. I'm so grateful for a God who knows we feel both and loves us through it all. And allows us to mourn with others when it matters the most. I was changed during the celebration of Isaac today. And I pray I let that change always remain with me.