“Holding fast to Him for He is your life and length of days.” Deut. 30:20

If anything has made me hold fast to God it is the loss of you. I’ve been stripped bare so that nothing else matters. Length of days? Only He holds that secret. What am I here for and how long will it be?

I’m a different person but I still have to do the same job. This profoundly changed soul within a stricken body is now asked to go about everyday life as before. The world is the same and I must move in it.

I remember the day I took these shots at the butterfly garden. Every kid waited breathlessly hoping a butterfly would choose them. Those butterflies kept landing on you!

When I enlarged the shot at home I could see they were tasting you!

This was back when only glimmers of your Major Depressive Disorder came through, back when nobody knew why the sunshine began to disappear from your soul. I wonder if He asked His Creation to give you joy that day?

I wonder if God told the butterflies what would be asked of you in the coming years and then created a symphony to choose you as their perch?

I feel like a butterfly. I thought the loss of you would leave me crushed on the ground unable to fly anymore. God has been faithful to be “near to the brokenhearted” and to “bind up my wounds” (Ps. 34:18). I’m able to do some of my old jobs again, like a butterfly flits and floats gathering nectar and spreading pollen.

But if you look closely, you can see the wings are dull and pieces are missing. That brilliant butterfly dust has worn off. It’s a wonder I can fly at all. I’m doing these jobs God has asked of me but really all I care about is getting to the end when we can all be together in heaven forever.

You know what we can do then? We can be covered in butterflies and Jesus will tell us His inspiration for each one. Maybe He’ll even let my artist boy design one.

“Length of days” is an interesting phrase. I had no clue yours would be 18 years, 363.

He was your length of days. He is my length of days. He holds us both. He knows when we will see each other again. Until then I’ll hold fast to Him and trust Him for what remains.

Dear God, it’s so hard to enjoy the scenery when my eyes are on the finish line. I don’t know how to do this. Nobody tells you how to lose a child and live afterward. But You know how. Please counsel me with Your eye upon me. Hug Tristan for me and tell him I’m remembering the butterfly days. I miss him so! Come quickly, Lord Jesus! It’s in Your most holy and precious name I pray, Amen.