the sun set.

today you could find me 
crying into my laundry pile
holding those little pants close
i asked for forgiveness for my earlier complaints.
all this laundry. 
so much blessed laundry. 

the morning took flight as it usually does.
breakfast, teeth brushed, hats and gloves and folders and snacks and backpack and jacket and, oh, don't forget hugs and "i-love-you-have-a-great-day" goodbyes. 
it could have been me, it could have been you. 
our sweet babies. 
no more. 

i didn't want the sun to set tonight.
for all those dads and moms who have just entered hell on earth.
i didn't want the night to fall on this, their darkest day.
the empty pillow.
the unopened christmas presents.
the unending questions.
oh, if my heart even hurts a little, how can they keep 
breathing?

we lie here safe and warm and without a care.
full bellies and christmas lights.
my heart sings songs of praise.
and tonight, not that far from here, 
cries ring out and bodies retch with agony.
kindergartners.

what can i do but cry out for their brokenness?
beg God to somehow come down
and keep them alive for one more day.
to help them do just one more day.

oh come to us, 
abide with us, 
our Lord, 
Emmanuel.