The Bad News
I knew she’d be mad but I didn’t expect out of control rage from such a young child. But then again, she does take after her momma.
Our daughter had just finished fourth grade at Pineview Elementary. We loved Pineview. I loved Pineview. But I loved my mom more.
And if the doctors were right, Mom only had one more year before she’d succumb to cancer. I had two choices.
If I kept our kids in school, I could visit Mom in Georgia on weekends. But if I took them out, I could homeschool them and have the freedom to create many sweet memories with her in the short time we had left. The choice seemed obvious, but not easy.
Our daughter loved her Oma, too, but she was 10 years old when we broke the news to her. We were pulling her out of Pineview.
At that age, all she could hear was we were taking her away from her friends and favorite teachers. As a rising fifth-grader, she was going to be an elementary school “senior.”
Rage burst from her tiny body. She flew out the back door, sobbing. I sat in the living room stunned. Silent tears spilled down my face. I was losing my mom, and now I’d just broken my little girl’s heart.
Help my child, Lord. Help my mom. Help me.
I wanted to run after her and hold her and beg her not to be angry, but Larry held my hand and told me to give her space.
Lord, how do we make this okay?
When I couldn’t wait any longer, Larry and I walked out to the back yard and found her curled up in a chair, tears still falling. Her clenched fists trembled. She glanced back and forth between us. I saw in her eyes, rage and resolution battled for control. Keep
