Eleanor can blow bubbles. Abigail can't.
"New batteries," she says, handing me the bottle, her eyes frustrated. She doesn't understand why Eleanor's are working and her's aren't. Life isn't fair and she doesn't have the words to tell me that. Are they in her head and just can't make it to her mouth? Is it just something she feels, but doesn't have words for - even inside? I don't know. Something so small that everyone else can do. But she can't. She will have to experience this over and over again. Everyone else is working and she isn't.
Life isn't fair.
When I think about Abigail's struggles and her future, I am very thankful we are Catholic. That her suffering can be united with Christ's, that her humility on earth will gain her glory in Heaven.