Sometimes it’s the random things – like unloading the dishwasher and putting the dishes away.
I catch a quick glimpse of the plastic plates that we picked out together at target. They were for his dorm. I don’t even think he ever got to use them. Of course not, why would he have? He was only in college for about eight weeks. We couldn’t throw them out or give them away. I couldn’t part with them. I wanted to keep them and use them for sandwiches or pizza or snacks. However, it is these reminders that bring me to a place that hurts so deep; a place that sometimes brings me to my knees, but sometimes make desperate for a distraction – a distraction from the thoughts; the thoughts I, sometimes, fear I won’t come out of one day. I quickly grab my phone and start a pandora worship station. My fingers don’t move fast enough. And, my mind races to a future without my son.
The music helps for a bit, but then I hear a quiet voice inside that says, ‘Don’t be distracted. Come to me with your burden.’ And, I must confess…
I don’t want to. I don’t want to face it this time. I want to be better. I want to forget. I want to pretend; forget that my boy is gone and pretend that he is coming through the door any moment to spend his summer break with us. And, at the same exact time I want to remember – remember that he is with The Lord and that he and I have a hope and a future that is brighter than anything I can see. And, we will be together again.
But, it hurts. It hurts all the time. That quiet voice says, ‘I am near to you. I am with you. I know your pain.’ But, it still hurts. It hurts all the time.
‘The Lord is close to those who are of a broken heart and saves such as are crushed with sorrow…’ Psalm 34:18