A few evenings ago, right before bath time, I sent Micah upstairs to clean up his toys.
“C’mon Joci! Let’s go clean up the legos!” He always recruits her assistance.
“Yay-goes!” And she usually always follows enthusiastically.
A short time later I peeked up the stairs to see how things were going. In the middle of a clean playroom floor, Micah and Joci were laying down next to each other, huge smiles on their faces. He would shriek some crazy pattern of staccato screams and then look at her and she would copy, and then they’d both burst out in a fit of giggles. I didn’t even mind the noise level, it was so precious!
It’s sad, though, always a little sad. You know why. Because no matter how strong their bond is and how much they love each other and how much my heart swells when I watch them play, there should be two more. Two more screams, two more giggles, two more hooligans to wrangle into the bathtub.
2 + 2 = 4
Except in our case, 2 + 2 still equals 2.
It’s ok. I know it’s my story and their story as well. But it still makes my heart ache a little every time.
My kids have two siblings they’ll never grow up with. But, like I said here, I’m hopeful that it will make them more mindful of Heaven and give them an opportunity to share Christ’s love and hope with others.
And I’m hopeful that, because of Jesus, I’ll get to see all four of them together, one sweet day.