She walked in a little bit late...the kids had already gone to their Wednesday night Bible class. Walking down the aisle, we get a glimpse of reddish hair with a little bit of curl at the nape of a precious little neck. She sits, he turns, and big blue eyes begin to take in his surroundings with a smile hinting at those pouty lips.
How short the time we have had to love this child, but love it is. If he gives us the least bit of attention, we fawn, we coo, we laugh and our day is brighter and the world a better place.
There is no blood shared here. We contributed nothing to his creation, to his birth, nor do we share in his hour to hour, day to day upbringing.
Yet, he is ours. He belongs to us. When he falls, we run to help; when he cries, we look for something to distract; when he smiles, we smile with pride.
Soon, he will join his fellow classmates, adoring the same teachers, learning to take his place among his peers. They will become his mentors, his favs, his buddies and big sisters.
He is ours.
Yet, he is one of several. Several of which we have watched take first baby steps, lose baby faces, grow physically, mentally and emotionally...reciting memory verses, leading their first songs and first prayers, taking on Christ in baptism and growing, growing, growing.
Ours.
Therefore, the hurt is undeniably bad; the anguish palpable and the mourning deep. The loss is insurmountable...we cannot breathe...because one of ours is no longer with us.
But the memories loom large in our minds and we remember a sweet voice, and we grieve with our whole being, standing hand and hand with her parents and grandparents who love her so. We grieve, we mourn, we remember and we believe...we believe that heaven is a little bit brighter, a little more joyful and lot more fashionable...because of one small child...our child.
How short the time we have had to love this child, but love it is. If he gives us the least bit of attention, we fawn, we coo, we laugh and our day is brighter and the world a better place.
There is no blood shared here. We contributed nothing to his creation, to his birth, nor do we share in his hour to hour, day to day upbringing.
Yet, he is ours. He belongs to us. When he falls, we run to help; when he cries, we look for something to distract; when he smiles, we smile with pride.
Soon, he will join his fellow classmates, adoring the same teachers, learning to take his place among his peers. They will become his mentors, his favs, his buddies and big sisters.
He is ours.
Yet, he is one of several. Several of which we have watched take first baby steps, lose baby faces, grow physically, mentally and emotionally...reciting memory verses, leading their first songs and first prayers, taking on Christ in baptism and growing, growing, growing.
Ours.
Therefore, the hurt is undeniably bad; the anguish palpable and the mourning deep. The loss is insurmountable...we cannot breathe...because one of ours is no longer with us.
No more bear hugs from this sweet one, no more fabulous cartwheels with splits to appreciate, no more conversation, and no more glimpses of a young girl growing into a young woman. No, not from our Haven.
But the memories loom large in our minds and we remember a sweet voice, and we grieve with our whole being, standing hand and hand with her parents and grandparents who love her so. We grieve, we mourn, we remember and we believe...we believe that heaven is a little bit brighter, a little more joyful and lot more fashionable...because of one small child...our child.
For information on Haven's service, please go to
http://www.tnfunerals.com/sitemaker/sites/HERITA9/obit.cgi?user=09938043_KEdmiston
How true
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