We are just finishing up our vacation out west and it is the stereotypical rainy day in Seattle.  The weather this afternoon fits my mood a bit - in large part because today would have been our daughter Elisabeth's 11th birthday.  For those of you that don't know us or that part of our story... our daughter Elisabeth died in 2000 from respiratory arrest caused by the combination of croup and Influenza A.    Now, eight years later, there's some days when I don't think about her as much, but naturally today I do. 

Of course, there is sadness and loss that I feel today.  Elisabeth was a wonderful little girl, and I miss her a ton.  She was a beautiful, peaceful child, who had tons of joy and love to give, even at the age of 2 1/2.  This past week we've been at a reunion with Andrea's family, one of which is cousin Sadie, who is 12 years old.  Seeing her play with our daughters Grace and Kate has made me wonder some about what it would have been like to have Elisabeth being that kind of big sister... as well as seeing how much Grace and Kate reveled in that kind of attention.  Sometimes I wonder if those are good things to ponder or not, because they are only in my mind and not in reality.  But somehow it helps me to reconnect with the memory of who Elisabeth was, at the same time as cherishing who our other two daughter are now, even if it makes me choke up and cry.   

So, there is the anticipated sadness.  But there is also more to the remembering than that.  

On the flight out to Seattle last week, I read Dave Schmelzer's great new book, "Not The Religious Type".  One of the stories Dave tells in the book is the experience of his daughter Claire almost dying several years ago.    At one crucial point in his daughter's battle for life, Dave was sent out of the hospitial room as Claire's heart had stopped beating.   Standing in the waiting area, not knowing whether his daughter was going to live or die, Dave tried to pray.  Dealing with the shock of the unknown, it was hard to put any words together to pray.  But as Dave tried, he sensed God speaking back some questions to him something like this:  "Dave, would you rather that Claire had never been born?  You've gotten to know her for six months.  Would you rather have skipped that so that you didn't have to go through the pain you're going through now?"  Dave answered back something like, "No of course not.  I'm hugely grateful for having gotten to know her, whatever happens."

I don't know that I've sensed those exact words coming back to me in prayer, but that question has gone through my mind at different points of grieving.  Like Dave, my answer was and is that I am grateful for the gift of 2 1/2 years with our daughter Elisabeth.  I don't see gratefulness and grief as being mutually exclusive.  Instead, I see view them as more two sides of loving deeply, even in a situation when time is cut much shorter than we would ever wish.