The breath is knocked out of you and you lay flat on the ground if only metaphorically. The punch radiates a pain deeper than any fist could unconvincingly comprehend. You feel all life leave your body but find that your heart is beating and your lungs are filling all while you try to figure out how you are still living and breathing when your entire world has just been ripped out from the very ground your feet stood upon.
A moment where my chest fills with a hot fire as I try to breathe the anxiety attack out. Slowly and with a patience not seen by human eyes, my lungs burn with the rage of the beast racing through my veins. “One, Two…,” my eyes slam shut trying to wish the anxiety from making my bones a home, “Ten.” I force a soft smile into my lips, pressing with all my might and I force a relax into my eyebrows as I turn to face my responsibilities of the day; while hoping and praying they can’t see the anxiety, the pain, the brokenness and the hurt that is trying to sneak out of my eyes through a glassy sapphire wave. My body, feeling out of control and pain lurking slowly through every inch as the beast rages, trying to show itself to the outside world, begging to be acknowledged. This moment full of chaos and a world that doesn’t need to know and certainly should not see the weakness, hidden deep in a smile on my lips somehow deceives and everyone interacts never knowing the war thundering deep inside my skin.
The day’s trials compounded turning into minutes and then hours and finally, after begging and pleading, one completed day. Escaping to the security of a bright blue glass house speeding home and safely pulling into a concrete sea of driveway that should bring no comfort to an achy body and raw war torn heart; but security is exactly what it brings and for a brief moment safety and concealment lodged the brokenness allowing a peace to cover and conceal the overwhelming pain.
2 Timothy 1:7, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”
A broken promise; a dream interrupted and awakened by a lie; hope tasted but stolen leaving a deep thirst that can only be quenched by one living water, The Living Water. A hope that we pray is not lost on childhood. A desire that lingers because it has been faithfully felt. An insatiable taste that cannot be forgotten but will be chased and sought after long after the bitterness subsides. We pray that the life breathed deep into his lungs was engraved on his heart, “JESUS.”
To never say goodbye, to walk away where choice was thieved right out from under you; in a moment you found yourself holding your breath, taking the heart and cracking the remaining portion in such a way it cannot possibly be put back together. It devastates the age to come and disrupts and temps the glory to pass what could have been. The ache we feel is unconvinced of hope but seems to hear a slight whisper that temps by knocking the heart to turn toward the beat; the whisper heard through a door slammed shut; the whisper, a breath, for the future that holds a promise of life, for true life that will be lived and lived through thriving from living water.
My mind races to the birthdays never celebrated, the blanket I had yet to get embroidered, the t-shirt with Fergie across the back that he chose but will never wear, the movie I promised but was waiting to see, and the cereal bought but not eaten; my heart cries out for the moments where he pushed the boundary a bit more and snuggled up under my arm instead of just finding a way to touch my leg. My love grows deeper as I feel the hurt of the lost moments of homework and grocery shopping and talk of his new name and future game days.
A failed moment that brings a flesh to its knees and a heart to its shattered-ness; a moment that suddenly calls wisdom out begging the soul to crave a different kind of success; a moment that seems to beg you to choose withdrawal and defeat or maybe, just maybe a push forward out onto the water; step by step moving forward toward The One True King and your eyes never breaking from His.
We never planned for this journey to end this way and we never envisioned more loss, more heart ache, but our flesh doesn’t seem to see what our souls long for and strive in each moment to achieve. Our flesh misses the future promise of serving the King of Kings and that promise, the promise we must grab onto and chase with our complete soul, clasping onto the assurance of serving Jesus and walking in His truth and His light. Our lives are about so much more than our eyes can see and our flesh can touch and we must pursue an existence that is solely devoted to our deep identity in Christ that is based on Him and founded in His will!
Sweet boy…sweet boys, our hearts ache for you in this world but will always pray for you and long to see you in the next life as we hang out with Jesus! We love you with a love we have never known and long to grow deeper in.
We love you with a courageous love and an apologetic flesh!