As part of my new gig with BlogHer.com/ BlogHerMoms.com, I spend a lot of time on the internet reading posts and seeking out funny, wise, insightful, raucous, anything-memorable posts about the journey of motherhood. Yes, it’s a fantastically engaging job, and I’m looking forward to appreciating it more after I stop having two or three other consulting jobs at the same time.
But I digress…
One of the voices I discovered was because of tragedy: a very well-known blogger—Anna See from An Inch of Gray—lost her 12-year-old son a few weeks ago; he was swept away in the flash floods of those horrible storms. Inconceivable, right? It was instantly all over Twitter and Facebook, as women who knew her and women who didn’t keened at the horror of it. I was mesmerized, and felt guilty for being mesmerized: What right did I have to be feeling her pain? I wrote a post asking that question aloud at BlogHerMoms.
So I’ve been checking in on Anna, as have hundreds of other people. And the strength of her vision and her faith as she grapples with the grief and the anger and the ALL of it is just breathtaking. I so moved by how she is facing all this, with how she is sharing it. The manner in which she is facing life’s darkest moments is a beacon for us all.
Here’s a snitch from her last post. Please go and read the entire post and you will give over to throwing your spiritual weight and beliefs—whatever they may be—behind Anna and her family. I’m devastated for her that she is going through this; but I am grateful she is brave and deep and wide enough to know that sharing her pain is a way for her—and US—to see the best in the world.
There are many glimmers of good things happening as a result of my little boy’s life, many, many good things such as families growing closer, people leaning on God, and a community loving on a broken family. I aim to share those things with you on this blog because, as my sister says, “I don’t believe God caused this to happen, but I believe He can redeem it.” Amen, Sister.
And I don’t want us to forget about that as we navigate this waking nightmare. So I’ll write what I can here.
And we don’t want you to forget about us, either. All four of us. Our sweet Jack and the three left here to mourn, and miss him, and figure things out.
Thank you for the permisson, Anna. And I thank you for sharing your naked humanity. It is a greater gift to us all than you will ever know.