Please tell me...

Please tell me if you ever think of, or talk about Nate. I want and need to know that I'm not the only one holding him alive in my heart. I need to know he's not being forgotten.

I don't know...

No, Ani, I don't know...
I don't know how difficult it is to close your mouth and stop choking on your tongue,
I only know that it will help.
No, Ani, I don't know...
I don't know how frustrated you get with me for not spending more time with you,
I only know that I pray that I could read your mind and see what you wanted.
No, Ani, I don't know...
I don't know how angry you get with your body when it won't turn on your voice
to sing with me.
I only know that every note I play or sing tells you that I love you.
No, Ani, I don't know...
I don't know how bored you are,
I only know how you seem asleep while you are awake, and I want to fill you up.
No, Ani, I don't know...
I don't know what your future holds,
I only know that I feel you have a purpose, that you are never alone, that I pray all the time for you, and that there are more people that love you than you will ever know.
Yes, Ani, I do know...
I do know that paradise will be ours when we are dancing together someday in heaven in the presence of our God, His Spirit, and His Son.

Where's the balance?

I've written about this before, perhaps nearly word-for-word with the following...

Where is the balance?
How do I balance my ongoing concern for Ani's condition with my call to lean on God?
God's hand isn't going to come down and put formula into Ani's tummy, that's our responsibility, given to us by God when she was born.
But, for my own peace of spirit, how, practically, do I have peace when Ani is in pain and I am powerless to help?
It seems selfish to seek internal peace when one's child is not at peace.

Even as my heart,

Even as my heart fills, Lord,
with Ani's minor advances,
her smiles,
her laughter,
it is draining away.
Even as it fills with Micah,
and his loving eyes and embraces,
it aches Lord.
Even as I talk with Ani about
eternity dancing and singing with God, Nate and her,
my heart is heavy.
Heavy with the pain of separation from Nate.
Heavy with the burden of Ani's injury,
and her favorite things in life denied her.
God, I pray for a glimpse of heaven,
to ease my heart while I am here on Earth.
God, I pray for the confidence it takes
to lay all my burdens at your feet in the name of Jesus.
God, I serve, and will continue to serve you
and my family to my best ability.
But I fail sometimes.
I don't listen to your Spirit sometimes,
and my failures cut me deeply.
I know you are the God of "Second Chances"...
Give me the heart to grant myself more chances.

My Ani understands.

Part of my nighttime ritual with Ani...

I say my prayer for her, then the following...
I (kiss) love (kiss) you (kiss)
*whispered* With all of my heart, and all that I am.

About the time of the third kiss, she starts smiling, she knows what's coming up. When I say the part about "With all of my heart...", she's smiling big. I've never done that part in a funny voice, I've never ticked her during it. She understands the words I am saying. God gives me little glances past her infirmity to see my Ani fully.

I miss talking to you...

Nate,

I miss talking to you, directly at least. I don't know whether my words or thoughts make it to you in heaven. I ask God to relay my love to you. I miss teaching you, trying to get you to say "Crackers, please", instead of "Cackah peas". I miss bringing you to the train museum. Mommy and I were talking about how the snow in the yard is so clean, no footprints in it, and it looks so lonely. I talk to Micah all the time, but that doesn't take the place of talking to you. It feels good, and I love him dearly, but that doesn't take away how much I miss you. Nate, I loved every minute I was with you. Cleaning up after you, changing your diaper, all of it. Micah is a happy little boy, and you would have loved to have played with him here. I don't know if he's going to like trains yet, but he seems to really like music, especially singing. I'm still trying to decide whether I'll read "Goodnight, moon" to him, and play the "where's the mousie?" game. Holy cow, you would be 5 now. What would you be doing? Anthony misses you. Would you be playing games on the iPad like he's doing? Probably...you loved puzzles. Ani is very, very slowly getting better, and we are doing all that we can to help her. I never stop thinking about what I could be doing better to serve her. I have been late this year in donating to a charity in your name, but I'll get to it, I promise.

I've only one thing to say in closing, Nate......"Cars!".

Daddy

Reality ruminations.

What if reality is simply a set of relationships?
There is no distance unless you measure between two things.
There is no gravity unless there are two masses.
There is no love unless there are two personalities.
We are called to relationships.
Even our God is a relationship in and of the Trinity.
Our relationships are the source of our highest highs and lowest lows.
Losing a relationship, like losing Nate, feels like a strand of reality has been unravelled.


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