These portions from Mary Beth Chapman’s autobiography and account of their daughter’s tragic death really blessed me this week:
I think I am realizing something through all of the craziness. Yes, God wants my quiet, and yes, God wants me to rest and hear Him and learn from Him. But all along, in the crazy last two weeks where I hardly had time to think, I realized that if I always think that I am going to finally get to that place where I am constantly trying to get – like in a quiet, picked-up house – then I’m wrong.
I need to choose to see Christ in every birthday party I drive to, every piano lesson that gets taught, every ballet tutu that gets twirled. God is with me. He isn’t waiting until I die for me to be with Him. He isn’t waiting until basketball season is over or until I get completely healthy. He sees me now. He is with me now.
The last several days, my mind has not been able to stop thinking about Mary, the mother of Jesus. Pregnant and scared, knowing that the baby she was carrying eventually would pay the ultimate price of His life.
How would I have lived differently if I knew that my time with Maria was going to be this short?
Regretfully, I would have lived much differently. I would have purposely hugged and kissed more. I would have tried to memorize and lock away in my heart certain smells and smiles. I would have colored more and worked less. I would have laughed more and fussed less.
Bedtime wouldn’t have become a chore to check off the list of things to get done. Instead it would have been more of an opportunity to listen about the day and offer whatever words were needed. The swimming pool wouldn’t have been too cold to swim in. The flowers in the garden would have all been picked, and definitely more ice cream would have been consumed!