I sit this morning and see the Santas on the tree.

And snowmen and glittering soldiers and even a Star Wars guardian dangling all out of place.

Matthew’s childhood hanging on.

This last born son who has brought so much joy as we’ve watched him emerge into a man. He’s home from college, stepping back into his place in our family- right in the center of everything fun.

And I grieve with the parents in Newton. Their Matthews will never come home for Christmas. Ever.

How can this be?!

And the Father knew it all when He chose to give us freedom. He saw every atrocity, felt within His being every heartbreak.

Did He cry? And bend His back with the load of grief? And isn’t He weeping still?

 

And the snow that falls outside my window feels like maybe He just can’t stop.

I cannot explain it, dare not try.

All I can do is hold my children close.

When impatience threatens my kindness, remember how much those mamas miss the messes…

slow down the frenzy of doing to cherish the beauty of being…

play games, read books, build legos, rock babies…

teach, encourage, correct, caress, laugh, bless, discover, relish…

And today I’ll make cookies. For my boy grown up.

From a heart heavy with grief and yet filled with grateful joy,

Diane