I'm jealous of a toddler. He's playing outside my window at the library with complete and bold abandon. Frocked in his corduroys, black Nikes and fire engine sweatshirt, he's chasing the local ducks over hills and through splashy puddles. And he DOES NOT CARE even one little bit what might be awaiting him at the bottom of those swampy pools of muck. He's dirty. Head to toe. Even has a little glob of dark mud clinging to his wild, platinum hair. Mom is not amused, by the way.

Follow you? Trust you? What does that even mean? When life is askew and the future unseen? When all turns are dark And shadows assail Confusion hangs heavy And faith seems to fail? It makes more sense To research and try To figure it out Answer all the whys. Surely God meets me As I dig and plot The course I think best For our little lot. But as I scurry and race And rack my brain There is no peace For this fast-moving train. It brings only fear Overwhelming worry As it soon

Our community is weathering the sudden and devastating loss of a vibrant young man, and we're all trying to learn what life looks like in the face of such a tragic loss. People are hurting and asking questions about life, about purpose, and about why God would let something like this happen. It just doesn't make sense to any of us, really. And I find myself asking again, "God, what do we do with loss like this? How do we find any peace at all? How do we help this family we lo