As we made our way to church I was despairing of life. Tristan used to be the whole reason for my sorrow. But now, six years later, God had added additional losses so that Tristan had become the first of many layers of grief. That alone made me mad. I didn’t want to grieve multiple losses because it made his loss seem part of a series. Tristan would always stand alone as the single most horrific event in my life.
Was he fading into the background like something that happened once?
I’d fight to the death to keep my boy alive. But sadly, that was not up to me. It was up to the One who made him, and Tristan was now Home, safe with Him.
Why can’t I grieve Tristan alone? Please don’t make me deal with anything else right now. I miss my boy!
Does the loss of Tristan matter to you, God? Why are you crowding our landscape with these other losses?
I was losing heart fast.
God answered me that day. I wasn’t even looking for an answer but He showed me He would address the unspoken desires of my heart. As we pulled into that parking lot of thousands of spaces, I got out preparing to walk into the huge sanctuary. Anonymity is safety to a grieving soul. But I was not anonymous to God.
A van pulled up behind us. A busy family, no doubt, trying to gather everything they needed to exit their crowded vehicle. I turned to walk away but not before two lone words rang through the atmosphere and straight into my consciousness. Only two words. But they are the sweetest words I know…
“Tristan! Tristan!”
I couldn’t even see the family, just a bunch of shapes behind tinted glass, but God had guided that van to park right next to us because He knew I needed to hear that boy’s name. That boy was named Tristan before the foundation of the world, and the calling out of his name was orchestrated into my story like God sprinkling rain on parched earth.
They could have parked anywhere. Or any other family with a Megan, a Luke, or a Daniel could have been unloading next to us. But no. The God who is in charge of the orbit of the tiniest dust speck, created a moment for my despairing soul.
He seemed to be saying, Your boy is not forgotten. He is precious to me and I’ve got him safe at Home. You are safe, on earth until you get to meet him again. Keep going. I’ve got purposes for you that you have no knowledge of, yet. One day, you’ll both sit down together and I’ll tell you all about it.
Dear God, thank you for saving me from myself when I didn’t even ask You to. I will keep going. Can you tell Tristan about what happened? I think that would make him laugh. I miss his laugh. One day I’m going to run into his arms and after crying a good bit, I think we’re going to look into each other’s eyes and then laugh long and hard with relief, unable to express the joy at all that surrounds us. Then he’ll get to show me all the places he loves and I’ll get to meet all the people he’s running around with right now. I can’t wait!! He’s alive, he hasn’t disappeared. He’s more real now than he’s ever been. Thank you for giving me such a son. Squeeze him really hard for me and tell him I’m going to keep trying. In Jesus name, amen.
