I don’t even know who you are anymore. It’s been so long since you’ve been gone that you have become what’s happened to us.
I hate that you are fading memories.
If only I could touch your curls again.
If only you were making your way in this new farmhouse like your brother and sister so I could see more of your soul and what makes you, you.
Would you use the front door, or the back door?
Would you spend time feeding the baby bird or would you race off to work every morning?
Would you attend Benji’s games or play on the team with him?
I don’t want what happened.
I want you.
Did you know your story is helping people? I wonder if you care?
God cares. He’s redeeming what happened to you into something. Sometimes I wish it was something I could give back.
Yes, I know God better in this house of pain, yes, others are learning from your story, but what would you have had for breakfast today? And would your thin frame have caught up to your broad shoulders by now?
I wonder if Mary wished she could give back the crucifixion? I bet at the moment she did. Even though her Son was God incarnate, on that cross He was also her little boy. I bet only after she saw the outcome was she on board with it.
In the end, the promise of a redeemed outcome won’t be enough. In the end, only Jesus is enough.
We will cling to Him because He made you and made us and in Him we are together, waiting for the culmination of this cursed earth. He will love us through it. He will wait with us for the end of it.
Then, on the New Earth while you are running with Jesus in the fields, I’ll talk to Mary about our boys. The way God used the suffering and the glory she saw later, and we’ll marvel for all that God did with it.
Dear God, please come quickly. I don’t know how much longer I can keep holding on to fading memories and I’m afraid of what comes next. Will it be vapour I can’t even grasp anymore? Can you keep him in my brain? You say you know every thought before I think it. Give me Tristan. Alive and well, with you, and some Tristan that used to be on this earth. I’m just a little sheep and it’s all I’ve got. Can you do something for me? Can you grab my Tristy and whisper in his ear, “Your mom says she loves you.” Hug him really tightly and don’t let go for a full minute. In Your most holy and precious name, amen.
