Mopping Away The Grit And The Grime

I finger the pages.

The pages of the yearbook he'll never see. 

The 2013 yearbook that holds the memory of the last of his walk on this earth. 

Graduation and the hope of a future.

I waited to look at it. 

I couldn't bring myself to walk into the pain;
the endless sea of grief.
But I look and I laugh and I remember.

He was so loved.
Such a humble young man; so missed.
I hear stories from those around us of interactions with Elijah and my heart soars.
Isn't that what every mama wants to hear? Stories of your boy and the beauty he left behind.
He wasn't perfect. His choices not always wise.
 But he loved the Lord and quietly (sometimes) made a difference.
It is in these things I can't find my bearings.
I want to tell him how proud we are of him.

I want him to know.
I want him here.
Isn't that what we want for our kids?
To make a difference.
To live so that Christ will be evident in all they do; even in the struggle.

I mop the floor.

The first time in 6 months.
 I mop away the grit and the grime;
 The remains of strangers and  unexpected visitors to our home.
 The steps of Elijah; washed away.
I didn't want to mop. I didn't want to wash away pieces that are left.
But what am I hanging on to?
Where is my hope nestled?
It is in looking forward. Forward to the day when all tears will be wiped away.
The day of a sweet reunion.

Revelation 21:4
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’[a]
 or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

It is in the hope of the future to which God has called us.


Psalm 139:1-6

You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.
 You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.
 You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.
 Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.
 You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.
 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.

We are a known people. Just as we know our children. The father knows us.

He longs for us to be in relationship with him. 

To come to him.

He longs to take all that grit and grime and turn it into something beautiful. 

The day is coming when he will return. 

I long for that day more than ever before. 

Psalm 139:13-16

For you created my inmost being;

    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

He knows the number of our days.
When our hope is set securely in him we step into the peace that passes all understanding.
We enter the hope that is waiting. That is where my heart will rest today.
As we move through the dance of cancer, as we struggle through the grief of living without our son. We will rest. We will look forward. We will stand with our feet on solid ground.
The missing will not change. The desire for all to be different still remains.
God wants our honesty before him.
He wants our obedience too.
I can't change the circumstances of my life.
But I can yield to the Spirit and find rest in the One who can make us whole.

Whom shall I fear?
I know who goes before me,
I know who stands behind.
The God of Angel Armies, is always by my side.