A hard job

It wasn't until I became a mother (of course) that I began to fully understand how hard a job that is.  To be so responsible for so much for someone so young.  And then when I became a single working parent (again, of course) I gained an ever fuller understanding of how hard the job was. 

This isn't to say that it is also the most wonderful job too.  It is wonderful, and stressful, and joyful, and messy, and fun.  And in the course of raising my three children (none of which were alike or had similar problems so I was constantly facing new issues), I really thought I had experienced most of the hard things. Broken bones, stitches, car accidents, drug use, bad boyfriends, strange and scary illnesses.

But watching my younger daughter grieve is one of the hardest things I've had to do.  It has only been six months since Dorian died.  For the most part she has been amazing.  I think, however, that she is doing well on the outer layers of her life but just a little below the surface, she is in pain.  So when she hits a road bump- like being sick, and having problems at work and it is the six month anniversary-she falls apart.  I pray all the time.  I pray that God helps me know how to care for my hurting child.  I pray that God help her move through this sadness and find solace in God's grace.  I pray...