I confess to you that as the day draws nearer, I know less and less about how to mark it. How do you look at the anniversary of the day you lost your one and only son? How do you view the day you celebrated his entrance into the presence of the Almighty? It is bitter, it is sweet.

After all, it is just another day. The world will go on as if nothing happened on this day in history. Deanna and I recognize it as the day BJ was due to be born 17 years ago. He was late (shocking!). I am sure he had good reason, but with no food and no one to talk to, I cannot imagine why he tarried for five more days. Perhaps so that the celebration of his birth would not be the same day as the celebration as his death.

At 46, I did not think there were too many things left for me to be a rookie at. I am as green as I can be at knowing what to do. Understandably, I am hearing from others who are having difficulty with knowing what to do with this day.

We absolutely have every reason to celebrate where he is, and what his view is like. We can laugh at the endless hours of conversation he is likely having with Jonah. Why on earth did he run the other way? BJ will have a low tolerance but a forgiving spirit for this. What is it like on the stinky inside of the fish? What is the view like in total darkness? Did you feel anything disgusting?

How absolutely breathtaking must his line of sight be to the Splendor of the King! What right do we have to begrudge him this incredible honor? How healing it must be to be in the presence of the only Spotless Lamb. Slain for his sin. How humbling to embrace His full presence and glory. I truly cannot imagine the Shekinah brilliance of our Savior. How can the knowledge that he is there with Him, be a sad day?

How can it be that we are in the middle of conversation and suddenly cannot speak a word without quiver and tremble as our accomplices? Where does the endless supply of liquid salt come from, and when will that reservoir run dry? How far is it to the comfort that will truly remove the stabs of intensity which are continuously thrust into our emotional expanse?

Why has the family Bitterness, taken up residence next door? Why do they want to visit us? We have nothing for them. Their promises of replacement comfort are shallow yet all consuming. We want no part of their offering. They are hideous to us...yet there is intrigue on their lips.

Fleeing from that which has been sent to exterminate peace finds us weary of running. The hiding places are few on the barren plain of his absence.

The only way to survive is to face the ugliness head on. The knowledge that He never forsakes His own will bring with it a soothing ointment for the open wound of brokenness. We could not have made it to this day without His grace. Door after door stand open as we are ushered into places we could never have conceived.

Sharing brings healing. But it only happens one small and all but insignificant word at a time.

Please do not grow weary of our offering, it is the only way we know to carry on. We have laden you with much over the last year, yet you walk as though your pack was empty. Blessed are you in the kingdom of God. He will richly reward you for your ministry to us.


dad