Mommy Paints the Sky

Last night as I was driving to the store, I was listening to the song "Mommy Paints the Sky" by Danny Oertli:

The wind blows your hair
On this warm November night
Your small hand in mine
And eyes that ask me why
But I don't know
But somewhere in the sky
Beyond the mountain peaks
The moon will find its voice
As the sun lays down to sleep
You ask me why she's gone
I don't know where to start
As the sunset lights your face
I see God knows how to heal little hearts

So he has
Mommy paint the sky
With deep ocean blue
She swirls the clouds red
To dance just for you
Mommy paints the sky
With the laughter of God
There by Jesus' side
So high above
As if to say it won't be long
Mommy paints the sky.

That song gets me every time. Jackson and Isaac are the same age that Danny's daughter, Grace, was when she lost her mommy, Cyndi. I can only imagine... As I was driving along, choked up listening to this song and the one that follows on the CD ("Worship You With Tears"), I was struck by the fact that there is pain all around me that I am oblivious to. I started looking at the cars driving past me and in front of me. I imagined what kinds of pain and hardship and struggle those people might be facing...the loss of a child, the loss of a spouse, depression, illness, loneliness, or maybe a sin that seems to big to overcome--adultery, alcoholism, pride. Every car represents a need. It struck me that there are all kinds of things I could resolve to do in 2009. I could be in better shape. I could do better with menu planning and cleaning. I could do a better job with coupons and looking for other ways to save money. But those things are all "me-focused." They are good things to work on, but if my life's goal is to have a consistently clean toilet, I'm missing something. I want God to use me in the lives of people who are hurting. I don't know exactly what that will look like for me, but I pray God will show me in the New Year. Erik and I have tossed around ideas about what that might mean for us. None of the ideas sound easy. But I'd rather have a life of hardship that matters, than a life of ease that makes no difference.