If you're a mom, you worry. And if you say you don't, you're lying. It doesn't matter that my kids are in their twenties; just like it doesn't matter to my mother that I am in my fifties. You always know how fragile life is; you're always aware how quickly your life can be turned upside down.
When my son was two, I got a call from a neighbor informing me that he was walking down the road near our house. I had no idea how he got away from me; he had been right beside me a minute before. But like all parents, I had allowed myself to be distracted; I had allowed the gardening I was doing to take precedence over my job as a mom. As I frantically ran down the street, I saw my precious little boy walking alongside the curb as if he didn't have a care in the world. I remember covering his little face with kisses and grateful tears and thanking God that I was one of the lucky ones. He had not made me pay the ultimate price for my negligence.
Today, I read the story of a ten year-old boy who was killed by a speed boat on the Chain of Lakes. Reading the horrific account brought me to tears. One minute, this family was sharing a fun day tubing on the lake; the next, they were faced with the horror of a drunk boater speeding head-on into their child. But they weren't like me. They did nothing wrong. They weren't negligent in any way. And yet, they lost their child.
I can't imagine what this family is going through; no one should have to endure that kind of pain. I pray that they are a family of faith. I pray that they have the love and support of a church community and friends that will rally around them. Reading their story reminded me again how all our children are vulnerable; how all our children can be snatched from our presence without warning.
And that's why we worry.
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