Yesterday at church three little children (two sisters and a brother) were baptized. Patrick and I are still new to the church, so we didn't know the family, but it is always special to celebrate this special occasion with a community of believers. I found it odd that the Pastor kept directing his comments toward the father and grandmother, and I wondered if maybe this was a single dad and maybe the grandmother was helping him. Then the pastor referenced Michelle, who I figured was the mother. Michelle didn't stand up during the baptisms, and I wondered if maybe she was sick or too pregnant to stand or something. After the baptisms, the pastor said that whoever wanted to come forward and pray for Michelle could come at that time. We were sitting in the back of the sanctuary, so I was never able to see Michelle during the service. After everyone prayed, I finally laid eyes on her. Michelle's husband handed Michelle her purse and began to push her in her wheel chair. He turned and thanked everyone, but Michelle was too weak to even look around. Her hair was very short, and looked to be growing back in. I watched as this sweet husband and daddy wheeled his bride out of the sanctuary followed by their three beautiful children. The pastor confirmed through a short prayer for the family that it was cancer that was taking Michelle's life. He went on to explain that it was a high priority for Michelle to be able to see her children baptized. I don't even know how to sum up this experience, except to say that seeing that young family being affected in such a brutal way made me soften up to my husband, to appreciate what we have, and to spend the day thanking God for the little moments we have together. Seeing those three little children, not any older than 8, 5, and 3, being baptized into the family of Christ Jesus was a precious reminder of the hope we find in Him alone. Hope that can outshine the most horrible shadow of sickness and death.