Out of the Grave

Sweet boy, today is our first holiday without you. It is one of those days I fiercely fight the tears because if they begin, they will not end. And that isn’t fair to your baby brother Nathan. Holidays can be tinged with grief and not tainted.

We went to church this morning. I did cry during worship. It was such a strange mixture of tears.

Sadness.

Rejoicing.

Awe.

Sorrow.

Hope.

Gratitude.

Celebration.

All of those coalesced into tears I struggled to control. Crying during worship isn’t unusual for me, but today was different. With a still tender heart, I raised my hand in praise. Steve grasped my other hand and Nathan put his arm around me. I was held on all sides.

Dead things come alive….

Where, oh death, is your sting?

The last one got me…

“Right here,” I thought.

Something comes out of the grave every time I call You, Jesus…

“Come out of the grave,” my soul whispered.

I am the dead thing that needs to come alive.

Sweet boy, you are alive where it is eternally Easter Sunday. There is never-ending joyful celebration, and it is never hopeful. Hope needs no existence where you are. It is already perfect beyond imagination.

If God were to, in all His power, allow me to decide – if you stay with Him or come back to me – what would I choose?

For me, I would want you back.
I miss my buddy and my entire soul craves your smile, your hug, your laugh.
You were my ever-present companion and reason for living.
Being your mom was my highest honor. It always will be.
Caring for you felt like my Divine purpose.

And it was, for a while.

But having you here with me would be entirely selfish. Your ‘here’ included doctors’ appointments and surgeries and medical complexities. It had pain and discomfort. Your body worked so hard. Even though there was so much love, I humbly know it is nothing compared to the tangible, faultless love you now have. Your ‘there’ is glorious. Your body no longer struggles to compensate. Everyone understands you and there is no need for words. There is no sickness. You are with the Great Healer.

Dead things come alive.

Something comes out of the grave.

I will, sweet boy. It will not be as dramatic as standing up and walking out. It will be more like when you got sick three and a half years ago. Critical illness followed by two surgeries including open-heart left you lying in an ICU bed for a month. Your muscles became weak. When you finally came home you couldn’t sit up by yourself. So we started by trying to get you to move your legs in bed. Do you remember we would put on the Wii Fit Dance and stomp our feet? We just wanted you to move even if only a little.

Once you could move your legs, we dangled them off the side of the bed and tried to get you to sit without support. The first time you flopped right over as if you never sat up before. It took weeks. Just sitting was our victory. I would transfer you from the bed to your wheelchair. You needed my complete support and trusted me to not let go. Eventually, strength returned enough to stand and you only needed me for balance. Months later you learned to walk again with support. Your muscles needed time to recover, strengthen, and to remember. We didn’t listen when the experts said you probably wouldn’t walk again. You were so resilient and persistent. It wasn’t the same as before you got sick, but it was functional and you were proud. I was too. We found a new normal.

When you left, sweet boy, my heart got sick.

My soul was hurt.

The best parts of me disappeared.
They are still here.
I will find them again.

I am weak.
But just in the last few days I have started to move my legs.
I need some time to recover, strengthen, and to remember.
You taught me how to never give up.
I still need so much support but eventually I will walk again.

I will walk right out of the grave.