I wonder sometimes if I cling too tightly to things of this world. One of the things that I admittedly cling to most is my child. Should ever the unimaginable happen and he were to be taken to heaven before me, would I be able to bear the separation? Would I have the strength to continue onward? Would I be so devastated that I would pass away shortly after from grief? There is nothing like hearing of the death of a child to make a mother hug her own child a bit more tightly or kiss the top of their sweet head an extra time before they go off to explore.
Now, I understand that the separation would only be in this world and on the grand scheme of eternity, it is very short. Yet the same, I imagine it feeling very long.
It makes me in awe of mothers of war time, and wonder how they did it. How did they let their children go off to war, knowing that they most likely wouldn’t come home again? What would have been their last words? As they left to go, I can imagine myself in their shoes. I would have watched him disappear into the horizon and then stood there, longer still, pretending that I could still see him in the distance. I may have even pleaded him not to go, and imagine that he would turn around, changing his mind.
The loss of a child is a test of faith that seems like no one should have to bear. I cry out in my head to God -“Why do you let parents outlive their children? It shouldn’t be this way!”
And God gently reminds me of the time before Edmund was born, praying that if I were to have a child, that I would surely trust him into God’s hands. And in His hands he is.
I cannot have the expectation that he will always be healthy, or that he will have a long life. I am reminded that every day that I get with Edmund is a blessing and that God’s plan for his life his greater than mine.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)
I pray that God would keep me eternally minded with my child and that He would give me the strength to fully understand that our treasure is not of this world.
-Anna
Now, I understand that the separation would only be in this world and on the grand scheme of eternity, it is very short. Yet the same, I imagine it feeling very long.
It makes me in awe of mothers of war time, and wonder how they did it. How did they let their children go off to war, knowing that they most likely wouldn’t come home again? What would have been their last words? As they left to go, I can imagine myself in their shoes. I would have watched him disappear into the horizon and then stood there, longer still, pretending that I could still see him in the distance. I may have even pleaded him not to go, and imagine that he would turn around, changing his mind.
The loss of a child is a test of faith that seems like no one should have to bear. I cry out in my head to God -“Why do you let parents outlive their children? It shouldn’t be this way!”
And God gently reminds me of the time before Edmund was born, praying that if I were to have a child, that I would surely trust him into God’s hands. And in His hands he is.
I cannot have the expectation that he will always be healthy, or that he will have a long life. I am reminded that every day that I get with Edmund is a blessing and that God’s plan for his life his greater than mine.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)
I pray that God would keep me eternally minded with my child and that He would give me the strength to fully understand that our treasure is not of this world.
-Anna
