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Not again

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So Ashtyn is sick with a virus. I feel so bad for her because it’s obvious it hurts for her to eat or drink anything–but I also feel bad for me and Jeff because I think we’re on our last nerves over here. She’s fussy b/c she’s feeling awful, but that translates into Jeff and I being frustrated and exhausted. I took her to the doctor yesterday, during which she cried and screamed through the whole appointment. So terrible. Yesterday was just rough all the way around. It began with getting hardly any sleep, and then moved quickly to me stranded on the side of the road in a dead car. Then going to the pediatrician with fussy baby. So . . . yesterday wasn’t the best. Today was better. I actually went into the office and got a lot of work done. But then I came home and sat in the driveway and cried because of this interview on the radio I was listening to. It was Mary DeMuth being interviewed and then they took call-ins. Mary DeMuth has a personal story that’s enough to make me sob. But then this girl called in–and her story was enough to make me just sit and cry in the car and feel like we really do live in such an evil world. Here’s one thing that I wrestle with when it comes to these things: people always talk about why God didn’t do anything to save the victims, and the conclusion usually comes to how this experience has helped them help others who’ve gone through this experience. I hear that–and it just doesn’t sound like a good enough reason for children to go through the worst things imaginable. It sounds like something that’s helpful now–but for someone to go through such things just so they also can help others who shouldn’t have had to go through such things either . . . well, do you ever feel like Christians are always trying to step in and make exuses for God or rationalize things that can’t be rationalized? That whole “make exuses for God” thing sounds terrible, I know. And you’re probably feeling sacriligious just by having read it. But to me–that’s how it sounds. Because some great purpose way down the road doesn’t really help that child who’s being tragically hurt in that moment. So anyway, the girl who called in was crying as she told her story, and there I was weeping. I looked up and there was Jeff. Standing outside and holding Ashtyn and both of them were watching me cry in the driveway. I’m pretty sure Jeff was worried about my emotional status (again).

Well, I hear the fussy one crying again so I’ll have to put these thoughts on hold. Talk soon.

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About Brandy

Brandy Bruce is a Bookvana award-winning author, editor, wife, mother, and someone who really loves dessert. She has a BA in English from Liberty University. She currently works as a freelance editor--reading, writing, editing, and making good use of online dictionaries. She's married to Jeff and has three beautiful children.

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