Yesterday Ginger died.
Ginger was My 9 year old’s hamster.
I was leading worship at Crosspoint’s Bellevue campus when I got this text…

I rushed home after the set to find my girl in the back room weeping.
“Why daddy? Why? Why did Ginger have to die?”
I could have attempted deepness in that moment.
I could have attempted to teach the 9 year old theology and scripture on death in the moment…
We all know that doesn’t work…
But instead I just held her.
Then I went outside and dug a grave behind our patio.
Then I let her see her Ginger for the last time as she petted her.
Then as she wailed and cried “Bye baby. Bye Ginger! I miss you baby girl!”, we buried Ginger.
I cried the whole time.
Not for Ginger per se, but just seeing my kid in that much pain ruined me.
From the moment I held the 9 year old…
Through the THIRTY MINUTES it took my to dig a grave with a serving spoon cause I could not find our shovel…
Through the nice words we all said about Ginger…
Through the covering her up with dirt.
I cried.
The 9 year old told me later on that day…
“Daddy. Thanks for working so hard to bury Ginger…”
And what she said next was the bottom line for me…
“And thanks for crying about her, so I didn’t have to cry alone.”

No lesson on death I would have uttered would have come close…
My nine year old gets 35 lessons a day preached at her.
Yesterday she gave me one.
Los