After our couple's group meeting in the morning, I had to watch some friends bury their baby, whom they lost at 17 weeks gestation. We had a funeral Mass and I read this at the burial. To say it's a hard thing is an understatement. I fervently hope I never have to go through that myself or walk through it with friends or family again, but it is likely I may have to.
Despite the many challenges throughout the day, I am grateful that I was able to see God's graces even in the suffering. He has been pouring out graces upon me since my baptism, but I am new to asking for them and recognizing them in my life. I believe He sustained the family of this baby throughout the last week and especially yesterday, and He is responsible for bringing together the community that supported them. I needed grace to get through the reading, to open the door to their house, and to sit and talk with friends all while we silently grieved the tiny child.
Even after all that, I was a jerk to the kids when I got home. I needed his grace to apologize and to sit and read stories for a half hour before bed when all I wanted to do was close my eyes and be done with the day. Grace. We need it. He's got it.