I have a friend from my high school youth group that has a blog. I have her blog listed in my “Blogroll”. She wrote something on December 3, 2008 that I felt was really profound and I made a comment on her blog. I hope she does not mind but I not only wanted to share what she wrote but I thought those that read my posts might want to read the comment I had made.

This is the link to her post:
http://hvoeltner.wordpress.com/2008/12/03/thoughts/
And this is what her post said:
Wow, as I sit here I am reminded that this year is almost over. What a year it has been. I sit here totally and completely blessed and am reminded how absolutely precious our lives are and that we need to treasure every moment. I am reminded of two friends who are going to be spending their first Christmas without their beloved children, those who have lost others close to them, have been diagnosed with life altering diseases, those who have lost their jobs, lost their faith. We have so many things that we complain about, or wish were different about our lives.

I sit here and realize I have all I could ever dream of! I have two beautiful and precious children, a husband who loves me, a relationship with my heavenly father, a roof over my head, friends, heat, food, life….and the list goes on. It is so easy to grumble about what we wish was different, or what we wish we had, etc. But this time of year I am reminded that those little things don’t matter, most of the time they are insignificant. I am so blessed, I am challenged to spend the next few weeks praying for those mentioned above, the childless, the homeless, the motherless, the fatherless and more. I challenge you to take your eyes off YOUR circumstances, and begin to pray for those around you, and don’t let those silly little insignificant things of life steal your joy, or make you forget the precious blessings in our lives.

This was my comment:

Heather,

Thank you for writing such a beautiful post. As you know I am one of the people you were talking about. My husband Keith and I lost our only child this past July. Her name was Mariana (pronounced Mar-e-an-na). She was 8 ½ years old.

I used to get so caught up in how upset I would get because she was difficult at times to take care of. She was diagnosed at the age of 3 with severe autism. In the last couple of years she was getting incredibly difficult to take care of that we were starting to seriously consider that within the next year or two she would probably have to be put in some type of home for safety reason.

Mari, as we like to call her, did not understand that safety was just as important as doing what we wanted. She did not understand that it was not ok to go through the family room window to go outside so she could go dancing in the street or to go through mommy and daddy’s bedroom window on the second floor so she could go dancing on the roof (fortunately the roof was basically flat) or go through the living room window to go to our next door neighbor’s backyard to play in their sandbox even though she had her own in our own backyard. All Mari knew is she wanted to do what she wanted to do but did not understand the safety consequences for what she did in that she could have been seriously hurt, or worse, she could have even been kidnapped or something. There was no talking to her because she lived in her own world; we called if Mari’s world. In her world there was nothing she could not do.

To have all the worry back and frustration would be such a gift; it is something I long for now. I miss it because that means she would be back. I would much rather have to worry about all these things than not to have her at all. I do know that if she had been able to live, life would be so different for us now.

All I know is now she is gone for the rest of our lives. There are so many people that miss her. I was on my way to the dentist today driving on I-80 (in the Chicago area) when I saw this hearse with the funeral line behind it. When I looked back there were a total of 3 other vehicles (to include the limo) following behind the hearse. What amazes me, and I have seen it several times since my daughter’s funeral, is that for the funeral line from the funeral home for the 45 minute drive on the way to the cemetery, my daughter had over 20 vehicles that followed. This was an 8 ½ year old little girl that had no idea just how many people truly loved her. I immediately started to fall apart with my friend on the phone. My daughter was such a special little girl and she will be so missed.

I guess ultimately what I am trying to say as I feel I am just rambling on is thank you for what you wrote today. Losing my daughter has put so much into perspective in that you never know what each day will bring and we all need to live it to the fullest.

Kristena