Glad He Is Here

We just celebrated our son’s 22nd birthday. There are lots and lots of things going on in our life right now - so much of which I wanted to write. For example, Matt's birthday trip complete with photos; things he said during the day that made me smile; the collection of baby photos I recently gathered at someone’s request. There are many events and activities that I thought would be fun to blog. Needless to say, at this time of year when our son was born, he is on my mind a lot and I have lots that I could transcribe.

Due to my busy schedule, I haven’t been able to get any blogging done. I planned to sit down this afternoon to finally write a bit. But the thoughts on my mind now, are not what I had originally planned to write. Sometimes it is like that. Sometimes, I sit down at the keyboard and I am uncertain what will end up on the monitor screen. Today, is one of those times when I will write with hesitation the thoughts that are weighing on my heart.

He had walked in the door later than expected this morning. I had been a bit worried. I was relieved when I had finally received his text, “Late call”, it read; he had sent it just before he headed home. I was happy when he finally got here.

I knew in a moment that that “late call” didn’t go well. I don’t know how I knew. I just knew. I always do. He doesn’t have to say anything; there isn’t a particular look on his face; it doesn’t have to do with his stance, or demeanor. It has nothing to do with what I see or hear. I can’t in any way describe how I know; I just know.

Pleasantries over, the conversation became deeper. He spoke softly, yet deliberately. He was animated, yet somber.

Over time, he has created a defense mechanism to camouflage all that he feels and wants no one to see. I have learned to recognize that mechanism. He is careful with his words and doesn’t say more then he should.

It wasn’t long before he excused himself with a change of subject and a slow smile. He was ready to move on.

“I know she was comforted the moment you arrived,” I stated softly as he headed down the hall. Trying to explain myself better, I continued, “You know; she knew that help had arrived; and she had to have been so relieved. It had to have been a comfort for her in those moments to know she was no longer alone. I know she was glad you were there.”

…It was the best that I could do.

Now it was time for me to move on.  I went out to mow the lawn where I could collect my thoughts and let the tears flow freely down my face with no one to see.

“I don’t want him to experience this”, I thought. At age 22, he has seen and felt more than most people feel in a life time. Tragedy has always made herself known in his life; his career choice ensures she will come calling again and again.

For me, it is times like today that I hate his job. But in the very same breath, I love it. The pride wells up within me; God’s presence comforts me. Memories are replayed in my mind and I know God has him in the right place.

As I mowed, thoughts flooded my mind and I remembered that youthful, pre-teen boy, gently and steadily calming the little goat, as he worked to free its head from the wire in which it had been caught. “I couldn’t do that”, I thought to myself. “I’m not patient enough; I am not calm enough. I don’t have the forethought that it takes to do something like that.” That soft, spring morning all those years ago, I watched his deliberate, yet tender hands work, and I remember thinking to myself, “I am so glad he is here! I would not be able to help this poor little goat.”  I knew right then that God had something special for this boy and I wondered what it would be.

Today, I remembered that scene and those thoughts as vividly as if it had just happened. Today, I know the answer to that question, and I was comforted. There is something easier about knowing one is in God’s will. The past makes the present understandable…or maybe it is the other way around. The present clarifies the past. I don’t know. That is too deep for me on a day I didn’t even know what I would be writing.

All in all, I do know that it is heartache and tragedy that allows us to understand and appreciate life. Darkness gives weight to the light. The hard things are what give us appreciation for the things that are truly important. Dare I even say, I feel sorry for those who have never experienced death? Not that I would wish it on anyone. I simply wonder how much they can truly understand and appreciate life without experiencing the sorrow of death. Can they really know how valuable life is and how much it is truly worth fighting for in every context?

I don’t know. That is too much for today. I am just glad he is here and I hope he finds comfort in home.