Sunday afternoon...my absolute favorite time of the week...a Mayberry-kind-of-feeling.
We were all in a semi-conscious state after a busy week, so I thought a movie was in order.
Flicking our way through Amazon, we found something that looked interesting...Rabbit Hole. We read the synopsis, pressed Play and off we went.
By the time it was done, there was dead silence. And a desire to weep. And hug someone.
And never let go.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
And now I really can't.
For later that day I heard that a worship leader from a nearby church, Gentry Eddings, and his family were returning from a wedding when an 18 wheeler plowed into them from behind. Their 2 year old son was killed and his wife, Hadley, 8 months pregnant at the time, was rushed to deliver their baby at a nearby hospital. And it looked like he would make it.
This tragedy put flesh on what Hollywood had only dreamed up.
If I hadn't seen the movie, I don't think I could put my mind around the valley they were entering...the raw pain of what was thrust upon them.
So I prayed. And wept. And thanked God that by His mercy their unborn child would live. That there would be some consolation in this tragedy.
But their unborn son didn't live. They got empty arms. Again.