She asks ....

"Has God forgotten me," she asks.

I think how to answer this as I gaze at the toys strewn across my living room floor.

No, I think. He has not forgotten you. But it is not an answer I can give her. Because no matter how I answer this, she will feel forsaken.

There was a time when I felt her same desperation, hopelessness, invisibility, isolation, and unimportance. There was a time when I asked the very same question. And I must remember that now. Instead I tell her, "I am so very very sorry." It is all I can say, and the words seem so inadequate.

All I can do is all I have ever done. Ask God to please spare her any more pain. Hasn't she suffered enough? How many more tests can she endure? How much more can she give? How much pain can she stand? How tired can her body be? How occupied her mind? Please, please, hear my prayer. She is good. She is kind. She is giving. She loves. Don't break her. Don't take away the Hope and Innocence she has left. Don't strip her of the shred of dignity she maintains.

Hear her prayer. Heal her heart. Let her love. Fill her up. Soothe her pain.

I gaze again upon the beautiful mess of my home. With a small acknowledgement of thanks, I remember that her mess will come soon. I am humbled. I am reminded. I am her Hope when she has none left. I will continue to Hope for her. Lift her up. Remind her of her strength when she feels that she has none.

You are strong, my dear. You are blessed, my love. You are not forgotten, my sweet.

It is all I can do. And it is so little.