They are breathing

I know I speak for at least 100 parents today.  Probably more.  But I am confident that at least 100 of us are feeling the same way.  Today I watched my friends bury their 10-week old son who struggled to survive here on this earth (read story here).  I have so much I could say about the integrity of these two parents, about their love for each other, for their son, for their God and for the human race, but what I really can't get out of my head is this:  

I have a son.
A   S-O-N
Who is alive and well.
He did not suffer or struggle to enter this world.
He spent hours upon hours nursing, sleeping on my chest, being held and snuggled close.
There were no wires or bandages or pieces of plastic holding his life together.
This son who is S-E-V-E-N talked me into playing monopoly tonight.
He WON at 9:30 pm.
I let him stay up WAY past his bedtime
Just because
His HEART was BEATING.

I have a daughter.
A   D-A-U-G-H-T-E-R
Who speaks with the gentle touch of her hands.
She finds peace in the movement and ripples of water.
This daughter opens her mouth and can take food IN.
Then she actually DIGESTS it and it comes OUT.
Where it is supposed to.
For the most part.
This daughter can SEE.
She can HEAR the music, the wind and the vacuum hum hum humming.

And if that wasn't enough,
ALMIGHTY GOD decided to bless me with
ANOTHER DAUGHTER.
She is JOY.
She has rhythm and SINGS
Strange made-up melodies.
She is stubborn and strong-willed.
She HAS an opinion.
A VOICE.
And she IS ABLE to actually DO the opposite of what I want her to do.
She can MOVE her legs.
She can BREATHE FREELY.


I don't know why I get to keep them here on this earth.
They are not really mine, are they?
Thank you God
Seems too small.
And that's really all I can think about.