Despite what a Boy Scout will tell you, you can never be fully prepared

The motto of the Boy Scouts of America is "Be Prepared", and damn I would have made an excellent Boy Scout. I mean I was the one who was always planning and making sure that I had whatever I needed to accomplish any task, a trait that I apparently did *not* pass on to any of my children, but that is another blog. Even when I found myself in a situation where I was at a loss, I could always count on my resourcefulness to pull me through. I am nothing if not prepared and resourceful, except, unless you see me handle a death.

To be fair, I've come to realize that none of us is fully prepared. On a personal level I witnessed it with the deaths of my grandfather and my friend Michelle. I *knew* they were dying, everyone did, but somehow at the moment of their passing it just seemed like such a surprise. To have such a real, *living* part of your life taken away is profoundly shocking.

I had the great fortune to attend a "Women of Faith" conference last year with some friends and it was very moving. There were many wonderful, truthful things spoken during that weekend, but one speaker particularly comes to my mind. Marilyn Meberg was talking and she said that the reason that none of us handle pain, sickness, and death very well is that we weren't created to have to cope with that. I remember at the time that her statement rang so true for me and I'm sure God intended it that way. Thinking about it now I see exactly what she means. It is so completely wrong, in every sense of the word to watch someone whither and die in excruciating pain, and anything wrong, cannot be of God. We were created as His children to live with Him and each other in community forever, and anything that does not further that goal will bring us nothing but misery and grief. Of course the reality is that, because of sin, we live in an imperfect world, and sickness is a visible sign of that imperfection.

All of which brought me to yesterday when my friend took her last breath on this earth and when her husband and 3 children had to say goodbye. Can anything be more *un*natural? Can anyone looking at that scene *not* see how innately wrong that is? A friend and I were fortunate enough to have been able to spend the morning with her and her suffering was glaring. So, while I was not prepared, and I was not ready for her to leave us, I am glad that she is no longer in pain.

I will close this out with some words. I know a lot of people say that words are cheap, but I have never experienced that. I like words, they are very powerful. They can be clever, and thoughtful, full of nuance and truth, and they can be crafted in a myriad of ways that convey *exactly* what I'm feeling about almost any subject if I consider it long enough (and have my thesaurus handy). And, although you can never sum up a person in entirety with words, you can define to a certain extent what they meant to you. So, here, in a list of words is how I experienced Tracy: friend, confidant, mother, wife, sister, daughter, avid volunteer, faithful, strong, loving, open, engaging, vibrant, caring, gifted, bright, funny, giver of parties, kind, outgoing, beautiful, and fair.

Oh, and I will include 3 last words too: loved, missed, remembered.

Not all parenting tasks are created equally

I am facing a loss and as much as it pains me, I have a larger worry. As difficult as it is to accept the impending death of a friend, a fellow mother, it is even harder to contemplate how to explain to my eleven year old that her best friend's mom is going to die. Some lessons in life are harder than others and I had hoped to spare Chloe this particular lesson until she was older. But the world isn't perfect, or even fair for that matter, and we're stuck making sense of the hand we're dealt.

Which leaves me with consoling a child who will miss an adult she is fond of, and has known most of her life, and who will grieve for her friend. More troubling to me is how to confront her loss of faith in constancy and stability. Chloe will now have to face the sad truth that her parents are indeed vulnerable. Anyone can die, and that is a scary truth to deal with at any age. We have been very fortunate and blessed, Chloe has enjoyed an extremely sheltered childhood with few notable traumas. No deaths or divorces have marred her life up to this point. Which I guess means, sadly it's time.

Parenting is never a simple task, but some aspects are markedly more challenging than others. I want Chloe to be able to empathize with her friend's loss, but not to identify with it so strongly that she loses her own sense of security. And, I get to manage this while dealing with the sadness of losing a second young friend to cancer.

For us the answer lies in our faith. Because I need Chloe to understand that, even in the face of the worst tragedy, God is with her, and promises to shoulder that grief for her. I can't assure Chloe that her dad and I won't get sick, or die, but what I can give her is the promise that only God can make. The promise that death is not the end for those with a belief in Christ, that her hope and faith in a secure future, while not guaranteed on this earth, is a certainty with her Heavenly Father. But even armed with that knowledge it's hard to say goodbye, and it's hard to watch those you love suffer. I suspect it's something we'll both be struggling with for the next few weeks.