Time has not made his absence less painful or noticeable. Rather it has widened the gap of my missing. The list of activities, celebrations, meals, days that I wish he was here grows longer, not shorter, with each passing day. There is not a time that I am not conscience of his absence or aware that I am a mom to five. One always missing. I do not cry as much, but the heaviness and freshness of missing is the same as the day he died. I love him. How is it possible to not miss one you love so.
And so with love and care we chose some Christmas flowers for his grave. They never quite seem pretty enough for such a beautiful boy with a beautiful soul. I arranged them before we arrived. Brent and I both agreed he would say "Booo-iii-fullll" if he saw them.
It was a chilly morning, so I waited in the van while I watched Brent tidy around his gravestone. There were a few weeds to pull, grass shavings to rinse away and some dirt that had gathered underneath the Superman plaque. There has never been a time that I have pulled up to where Daniel is buried and not been mad at death. I hate it.
As Brent finished freshening up his place, I joined him beside the grave. After I placed the flowers in the vase, Brent and I prayed.
My prayer was simple, that no matter what I face I would be faithful to the Lord. I asked Him to help me. I begged for his grace to continue to be sufficient. I do not know why I feel so desperate for His grace, for there is not a day when Daniel was alive or since He has died that the Lord has not been faithful.
If you have ever ran a marathon, you know how grueling the last miles of the race are. If you read the story of the marathon I ran in memory of Daniel, you know how painful the last 6 miles of that race were for me. I recently told my husband that I feel like in life I am always running that last 6 miles. There is hope, there is grace, there are even personal victories and times of joy, but I am desparetely depending on the Lord's strength and counting on the sufficiency of his grace to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The weight of grief makes it so grueling, yet I am not without hope or joy. It is a paradox I do not understand and fail to explain, but real nonetheless.
For some reason after we prayed by Daniel's grave yesterday, I wanted Brent to take a photo of me with Daniel's Christmas flowers. I have actually never asked for this before. As I turned around and knelt in the direction of the camera phone, I again silently asked God that I would remain faithful to Him, dependent on Him and finish the race of life well.
And then I glanced up.
It never gets old.
A rainbow.
A tiny one, but a rainbow.
Time and again. A rainbow. I started laughing, then crying and Brent turned to look. I told him to hurry and move the van so I could take a photo without the van...but by the time he did it was gone.
Y'all. God is faithful. He is good. He is true. He always acts according to His kindness. He is right. God is faithful.
This past week, one of my favorite people from Dallas Seminary passed away. His name was Chaplain Bill. When we lived on campus he was so kind to our family. The boys have fond memories of conversations they had with him during many hours playing baseball on the seminary grass. It was fun hearing their memories and sharing our own. The common theme of all of them was JOY. He lead us in some of the most amazing worship with his beautiful trumpet playing. Chaplain Bill was a JOY-bringer. Much like our Daniel. You were happier after having been in his presence. He was one of our biggest cheer leaders, advocates and prayer warriors during Daniel's life.
During Daniel's first 35 day hospital stay, Chaplain Bill visited when Daniel was still in the ICU and hooked to a myriad of machines and IV's. Upon entering his room, he grabbed Daniel's hands and began to weep. Through tears he said to Brent and I, "How great the Father's love for us must be to watch His Son suffer so." Indeed. This has stayed with me.
Christmas is almost here. A day that we enjoy fellowship and gifts and good food and beautiful sights. A day to celebrate Jesus. In the midst of our celebration let us not forget why He was born. He was a baby born to die. A baby born so that we might have HOPE. A baby born to take away the sins of the world.
This hope alone is enough for me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. How kind it is of the Father to continue to wrap that hope with a bow for me. His rainbow. A promise of his faithfulness. It never ceases to amaze me that he cares so much.
He is a good King.
"Father, thank you for your love. Thank you that you loved the world so much that you sent your only son, Jesus. Thank you that he came, that he lived a perfect life--fully God and fully man--that He died in our place, for our sins and that through faith in Him we might be reconciled to you. Thank you that He takes our sins and in return wraps us in His righteousness. Amazing grace, indeed! Thank you for the hope that Christmas brings. The Word made flesh. Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us! Thank you for hope. I pray for anyone reading this that they might know the hope that Jesus brings. I pray that you Lord, the God of all hope would fill their hearts and their minds with JOY and peace as they place there faith in You so that they overflow with HOPE by the power of Your Holy Spirit. Thank you for your grace. Thank you that death does not have the final victory. Thank you that one day I will see my Daniel again. And Chaplain Bill and all of the saints who have gone before. I love you Lord. Thank you for Jesus. Amen"
Merry Christmas friends.
