Sometimes I wish my world was made of paper so I could tear it up. I want to burst through a banner like a football team on homecoming day. Then turn into a whirling dervish of fury, ripping up the scenery of my life.  This is the anger I’ve been feeling lately.

Anger is part of grief. They tell you that in any grief class or book you read. I’ve been through the checklist and I can’t figure out what I’m angry about. I’m not mad at Tristan. I’m not mad at God. I’m just mad. Mad enough to tear up my world.

My soul is sore like a bruise. When I see the wolf hoodie that Tristan wore in our used-to-be-life, it hurts. But you know what hurts just as bad? Living a new life without him. It screams, “This is everything apart from Tristan that wasn’t dependent on him. This is your pilgrimage without your boy.”

This new life moves forward like a river whose current surprises you. So fast! You have no control, you’re just caught up in the ever-onward motion. Tristan is back there, on the shore and I am moving further and further away from him.

I’m not ready to be without him, but every new day screams I AM without him. Not just without him, but leaving him behind on the shore. Moms can’t do that! We always need to know our children are okay and accounted for.

Here’s the truth I tell myself — Tristan still exists, just not here. He is there, in heaven, in his true home. He is enjoying a life without me. I can enjoy a life without him, can’t I? We are in two separate realms, but God has both realms in His hand. So in that sense, we are together.

Tristan is accomplishing God’s purposes there. I am accomplishing God’s purposes here. So the way to be closest to Tristan is to be close to God and doing His works here. 

And therein lies the rub —  While everyone else is living for God simply to please Him, I am keenly aware that I am living for God to be one day closer to the day I see my boy. Half of my soul is already there.

Perhaps others’ motives are purer than mine.  As they seek to please God,  I seek to bide my time until my pain goes away when I see Tristan again.  I am getting to know Jesus because His worth has increased since He has my boy, instead of simply because Jesus is worthy.

Do you know that, God? Does it bother You? Or are you mindful that I am but dust? Am I the weakest of your flock that You will hold in your arms and let me think these simple thoughts until I am home, too, and I know in full? Will you change me if I need to think differently? If You were standing next to me would you help me tear up my paper world, or would you place Your hand over mine and say, ‘wait, wait and see. I can redeem even this. All that will be burned up will be burned up and you will get the satisfaction of seeing it turn to ashes. What remains will be gold.’ ?

Until that time, save me from myself. In Jesus name, Amen.