The sun has come out and all the daffodils are in full bloom. It is absolutely beautiful outside. I'll repeat what I said last year about this time, that London in the springtime is one of the most beautiful places I've seen.
In the late hours of last night as I was rocking Antalya, trying to calm her, and waiting for her fever to break so we could both get some much needed sleep, I couldn't help but think - as most mothers do - that I would do anything to help her feel better. The fact that I felt like death-warmed-over myself meant nothing when Antalya was suffering and needed me by her side.
Which made me think of the people of Japan and the awful things they are going through right now. I have complete faith in the resurrection and that the way has been prepared for us to be with our loved ones again one day, and I can accept that suffering is part of this life - something we must all pass through, but what breaks my heart is thinking of the children, and as a parent having to watch your child suffer.
What choice would one have if the tsunami alarm sounded and your little ones weren't with you? I'm sure most mothers of little children feel as I do that I am completely irreplaceable in their lives. No one else knows that Victoria must have her sippy cup, doggie, dolly, and puppy all wrapped tightly in her arms before she will fall asleep, or that after her bath, Antalya likes to be wrapped up tightly in a towel and held like a baby while I sing, "I've been working on the railroad." No one else understands intuitively what my little girls want, but can't quite explain. I can't imagine not being there to hold them when they are sick, or kiss their owies, or tuck them in at night.
So tonight, my prayers go out to all the little ones across the world that are without their mommys to tuck them in, and kiss them, and tell them how special they are.