My husband accepted his place in the cycle of life before I did. Prior to Wade I was never interested in children, and lacked respect for them as a people group (as funny as it sounds). I did not have kids, but I also didn’t seem to be missing anything. My family seemed rather complete as it was. My husband morbidly pointed out on several occasions that “eventually it would just be us…and wouldn’t it be nice to have some kids then?” I got what he was saying, but I was uncomfortable with what seemed a pragmatic argument. I first wanted to be in love with the idea of having a child.
A good friend of mine ended a 3 year battle with cancer tonight. Per my calculations, she has met her Lord, something she was expectant for, even as she fought hard to extend her terrestrial life. I am a Christian. My friend was a Christian. And tonight she has been made whole in the presence of her creator. But still, it aches.
I tend towards the angsty side of the spectrum. Long before it arrives, I think about loss. I think about losing my parents, friends, and already I feel the grief of these things, though they are likely years away. As James says – we are but a vapor. Somedays the truth of this stings.
Tonight, heavy hearted, I pulled into the drive to pick up my son Wade. He saw my car and cried out a series of Mama’s in exclamation.
His voice is a salve. It is a chorus of bells, calling me back to the present.
I see now how children comfort.
My friend lived in the same moment in which I now stand. She felt the comfort of her children. I know as she neared death, they gave comfort again – her family growing from children, to grandchildren, to great grandchildren.
I cannot unlearn that I will soon be where she is. But for now, I am here. And upstairs is a boy with joy and hope on his face, reminding me to steadfast faith, to his care, and that these days are only but a small beginning to uninterrupted sweetness.