I don't know why.
I guess I'm figuring God puts much less importance on how people die or how long they're here. It would be very God-like to be more interested in the impact that life made, no matter how many years it was given here.
Or minutes.
The Stulls had 32 minutes with their daughter, Kylie, before she went home.
32 minutes would be about how long Zoe played "airplane" with me last night. Her mama calls her "Pickles."
And yet both have a "catastrophic genetic disorder."
God has chosen Pickles for something else. I am grateful for his mercy.
