The state of today.

A couple of days ago motherof2 asked how things were for the family personally. Her question made me stop and take stock of how Kyrie is woven into our lives today. The following thoughts are just from an aunt's point of view. Jordan & Lacie will share their perspective in a few days.

I can tell you that not a day goes by that I don't think about that little munchkin. Whether I'm in a stressful meeting or in an airplane or weeding the flower garden, Kyrie makes it very easy for me to keep a healthy perspective on life and people. Much of the stress in meetings doesn't matter. Flying in an airplane is a miracle. What you do right now with your time makes a huge difference in the future.

I intentionally think of her more often when I'm up against a difficult person. She keeps me collected and focused, reminding me that this, too, shall pass. She reminds me of the sweetness I need to discover in each 24-hour span, as if I'm looking for wild honey every day. She reminds me that each day that passes is a day that we're closer to heaven.

There are frequent, blinding flashes of pain, too. It's usually when I least expect it, like passing an endcap in Target filled with glittery, girly shoes. I am awash with red heat when I hear someone complain about his or her healthy child. This time of year, my jaw tightens and my throat feels full just seeing Easter decorations. I still have a white chenille headband with pink bunny ears that I bought for her but never had the chance to give.

I deflate whenever I hear of another child/family fighting brain cancer. In half a second, images of two years ago speed across my mind's eye like the pages of a flip book. The shock. The heartbreak. It aches in a place that will never find the air to heal.

And then I take a deep breath, knowing that we're doing something--we're really, really doing something to change the world.

I see her everyday in some way, and I especially see Kyrie in her little brother. The physical likeness is uncanny. A boy version of her big, shiny, blue eyes and round pink cheeks. He's funny now, the bud of a little sense of humor, which is exactly how Kyrie was at his age. Jordan says that he loves being outside, like Kyrie did, but he's developing his own personality, too, like when he digs in the dirt or tries to make truck noises.

I still watch Kyrie's video, sometimes as a pressure release, sometimes to make sure I don't forget. I suppose that is what people most assume as time passes. If you laugh, you must be "over it." If you take a vacation, you must be "passed it." If you talk about the pain less, you must hurt less. This is not true at all. I know for sure that the grief is still there. In the last two years, though, I've stirred the Kyrie Foundation into that grief, which has made it possible for me to breathe again.

I've never believed in that adage about God never giving you more than you can handle. I don't think that's true based on the existence of debilitating depression and suicide in our world. Plus, I think that it is really unfair to dole out more pain to those who seem to "handle it" better, meaning if you can't handle much pain, you get to have an easy life. I think it's better to think of it as "God doesn't give you anything that He can't handle."

And that's where we are today.

There comes a point when it's too much to bear. It's too difficult to understand. So we give all of our suffering back to Him. And we keep going because this is not the end.

I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches.
If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise,
since everyone suffers.
To suffering must be added mourning,
understanding, patience, love, openness,
and a willingness to remain vulnerable.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh