hope all around me has seemed exceptionally shadowed the past few weeks. the heartbreak of others wrenches my own heart.
our congregation carries the responsibility to care for families admitted to seattle’s children’s hospital and medical center, specifically those living in the ronald mcdonald house. the past month we have had a high number of families there. stranger families. families bearing heavy burdens. families losing their babies.
disease has attacked my friend’s little brother and i pray for him, and his family as if they were my own.
a plane crashed in a foreign land and that distant tragedy is connected to a friend and now i prayer for three motherless children i have never met.
i have not spoken to one of my role models from my teen years in arizona since her wedding reception years ago. she now lives only an hour south of me. last week she gave birth to twins who did not survive. i am now trying to write her an email but words do not come easily.
i am anxiously watching hurricane gustav. it eerily takes me back to the overnight shift at my tv station three years ago as we all waited, helplessly, for katrina.
our friends’ three year old is a living, walking miracle. he survived a drowning and just the thought of what they have and continue to experience make me ache and fight back tears. and yet, the mercy radiated in his sweet face today at church was a testament of all that is good and gracious and just. as he stood in the chapel, in his spiffy blazer and tie, he eagerly flashed an envelope and announced he was going to pay his tithing. a loving father spared him and for that, amidst the horror and despair, is light.
“thy truth has made our prison bright; thy light has dimmed the dying past. we bend beneath thy loving will and seek thy onward, onward path at last.” (text: john a. widstoe; how long oh lord, most holy and true; Isaiah 61: 1-2; D&C 138:11-19, 50-51)
i was bound for mexico. 
>And yet we know “that all these things shall give [us] experience, and shall be for [our] good.”There is not simply a light at the end of the tunnel, but a whole other experience, that IS all good!
>The burdens carried by so many seem unbearably heavy, don't they? It's good to feel compassion for those who are aching and to help out as best we can. How wonderful to still be able to identify hope and God's grace and loving kindness–especially when pain and suffering seems to surround & envelope us.Good luck writing your note. The words you're searching for will come…
>I’ve been thinking about things like this the past week–but not as close to home as your own experiences. I love your ending quote.
>thanks for writing that Robs. It makes me put my own insignificant problems into perspective. I wish there was more we could to to help others who are suffering. The only way I know how to help in times like these is to pray. Miss you!
>I was fightin’ tears while reading this, but then I kinda lost it when I read about your friend losing her twins at birth. I am so so sorry…life seems so unfair sometimes. I guess someday we’ll understand why.
>Well put Robs. Just go to show how fragile life is and how wecan’t take it for granted.
>You’re a good person Robin and we’re lucky to have you and Christian as friends. Your posting brings all kinds of Isaiah passages to my mind. Thank you.
>it does seem like there is an unusually high amount of tragedy happening these days – everywhere I go someone is in the throes of something terrible – which, fortunately or unfortunately makes us all the more grateful for our blessings and abundance come on down, we’ll head to Brazil any day you want
>i hardly know what to say robin…you’re in our prayers.keep on keepin’ on. =]
>I’m totally with you….these last few months have seemed like one tragedy after another for so many people who are close to me. My heart aches for all those who you mentioned in your post. It makes me so grateful for the Gospel and for peace which passeth understanding. We miss you guys!