I'd been meaning to wait until after Timothy's birthday and the U.S. elections to blog, but now that those events are past, I find myself sighing and dragging myself to the computer. I'm exhausted. I'm not sure why--maybe it's Timothy's rough night last night. Or maybe I'm just tired of looking at computer screens all day.
The older I get, the younger people seem to be when they die. Perhaps that's just stating the obvious, but it's hit me in the past week more than ever. In the eight years since I graduated from high school, four Nigeria missionary men have died of cancer--all family friends and fathers of my schoolmates. They've ranged in age from early forties to early sixties, but it's still somehow overwhelming to me. I wasn't close to any of them (at least, not recently), but I have happy memories about them all. And the saddest thing: two of them died just weeks before their children were married. Yikes. Talk about timing. It's a real reminder that we have absolutely no say in our coming and going.
I realise I haven't said very much in this post, and I'm sorry for that. But I've said my bit, and that's that.
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