It was pretty fun to sing about it. The story of Jairus begging Jesus to heal his daughter is brief. Ten verses in one gospel. Twelve in another. It is even interrupted by a different miracle in the middle. Reading it takes less time than it did to finish the song, but then we did repeat the chorus. 

Another song in the service that day was composed by a little girl. Back when we lived in Florida, a child wrote a poem for Thanksgiving and I set it to music for her. 

As part of the storytelling, we watched a clip from the movie Chosen. Many of us were moved to tears by this rendition of the greatest fear of every parent, and its incredible outcome. 

Love does make us susceptible to grief. Losing a child is so devastating that I was weeping, even though it was pretend. What is not fabricated is the intensity of the bond between parents and offspring, and the agony of it breaking. 

Could there be another way? Can't we love lavishly, without risk? For some mothers, the separation is not through death, but from estrangement. Just as painful. 

I notice that God has opened Himself up to loss. More than once, actually. Not that He ever loses sight of us, but as a friend told me, "If you are feeling far away from God, guess who moved?"

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!" Matthew 23