Take Heart

From yesterday afternoon:  

I’m listening to the warm sound of chimes on my back porch.  My kids are preparing to go to their grandparent’s house.  We just finished school for today.  We are reading an intense fantasy book together by N.D. Wilson called Outlaws of Time.  It is a little dark and foreboding so far, but with an undertone of hope that surely something good will come in the midst of tragedy.  I suppose the intimacy and snuggles we experience as we read are a stark contrast to the content of the book and to the world around me in so many ways.  For that, I truly rejoice.

The former me may have put this book away and saved it for when my kids were older, more prepared for the weight of it, but now I feel so differently.  I can’t shield them from pain.  That treacherous day six months ago has taught me that.  As much caution and planning as we do, I never imagined this could happen to me, the death of my son, but here I am sitting in the bitter providence of this lot.  Some days our future feels dark and foreboding.  That’s hard but it’s honest.  Nobody wants their future to include a child in the grave.  Nobody accurately imagines the gravity of this reality.  Frankly, I don’t want anyone to try and I don’t want anyone else to arrive here.  I hate death.  I really do.  

Yet, there is hope brewing, churning within the pages of this book.  We are all intrigued.  Hope is brewing and churning within us too.  I am convinced there are many dark days ahead, unspeakable pain, and hope.  Real hope.  We read Mark 6 today in school.  The kids fiddled with their slime as I read aloud, our home filled with the smells of breakfast and the sounds of four profoundly beautiful souls rustling their hands as I read.  Moving hands often mean open minds for my little people.  These moments are some of my most favorite.

I read about the beheading of John the Baptist, Jesus feeding five thousand, and then his appearance to the disciples on the boat.  In the midst of heavy winds and the resulting fear of His disciples at the hardship and the sight of Him walking on water, Jesus calms the fear of the disciples.  Then, He climbs in the boat with them and calms the wind.  My children were listening this morning.  So was I.  Not just with our ears but with our hearts.  You see, just this one chapter of Scripture felt so familiar to our lot.  Devastation, provision, and Jesus WITH His disciples, calming their fears.  I read through tears and the hearts of my children were stirred just the same.  The conversation that followed was tender, wiser than their years.

Our journey ahead does feel long, dark, and arduous.  Our story holds gripping pain, but there is redemption ahead.  Although hope does not displace the pain of Haddon’s death, it isn’t merely a positive spin on a terrible tragedy either.  Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection changes everything for those who believe.  His pursuit of His people, His grief in the sting of death, and His provision are all tender evidence that His promises are true.  Slowly, but surely my Lord is knitting this word into the fabric of our souls.   Jesus said to the disciples as He approached them from the water, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”  (Mark 6:50).  I hear the whisper of the One who commands the wind reminding me that He is with me, to take heart.  

As sure as there is rich beauty and warmth in the mystery of howling wind and chimes, the sound has always felt foreboding to me.  It feels so fitting right now.  It seems there is good and very hard up ahead.  Our story isn’t finished.  There is an enemy on the prowl and a wounded people who are often weak and weary.  Yet, strength is being forged in us by a God who cares deeply about our pain and is bringing purpose therein.  He is using our devastation, this furnace of affliction, to refine us.  As I watch my children grow and respond in faith to the death of their brother, I catch a tiny glimpse of God’s good purpose in our pain.  I am so proud of their progress, and even more convinced that His plans cannot be thwarted.  

Psalm 27:14
Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.

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