Of Numbers and Days...

204

That is how many days have gone by since my last post.

Number of times the sun has risen and set again.

And in those 204 days so much has happened. So much more than I ever could have imagined as I typed those words and hit “post” on January 8, 2017.

Our son’s cancer diagnosis in the fall of 2015 rocked our world. In fact, it took the axis that our family world spun on and not only tilted it in a different direction – it bent and twisted it in such a way that none of us could find our equilibrium again. We desperately tried to hang on as the lives we all knew as normal spun blindingly, throwing us to the edge of the planet, hanging on by our fingertips.

It was not the ending to the story that we wanted. Not what we prayer for, really.

We walked around the walls of our Jericho so many times that we were certain that God would bring them down. Our shouts were deafening. Surely God would give what we are asking.

Yet the walls stood firm.

Time and time again…hit after hit…we all got back up and kept going. Supporting our courageous warrior as he battled valiantly.

We couldn’t see it. None of us.

He was making a way.

It certainly wasn’t what our humanness wanted. We stood in faith, believing that God could bring about healing if it were His will. If it would bring the best for all.

And yet, His will was that PJ would be brought to His side, whole and healed, sooner than we all imagined.

138

That’s how many days from my last post to the day he left earth and entered eternal glory.

67

The number of days since the heart of my heart left my world.

How do you wrestle that? Your child, your only child, gone. The life that grew under my own beating heart for 9 months, no longer.

It is agony. Even when I’m “fine”, I’m not…not really.

For 31 years all I did was for and about him. Any mom knows that. She understands. Once we hold those little beings, our hearts no longer beat on the inside of our chests…they are now beating and running around in the life of these blessed souls.

And how do we face our world when those hearts cease to beat? I don’t know.

Of this I know, even when I know nothing, I am sure – as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow- our God is over all. He is the light in the darkness; He is the breath when it feels like my lungs will cease to work; He is all consuming and all perfecting. In Him all of this will make sense. He will redeem it all. Every single tear. All the shattered pieces of our hearts He will mend. From His point of view - right now – it is already done.

For now, it is a daily crying out to Him. I live in the constant need & longing to feel His forehead pressed tenderly to mine. The comfort of Him lifting my chin to gaze into His eyes, where tears that equal and exceed my own pain, spill over His lids. To hear Him whisper, “he is whole, you are Mine, let go…breathe.”

11,332

The number of days between PJ’s first breath taken to his last breath given.

To God be the glory for each breath taken, for every moment lived, and for all the memories that remain. Here is the those of us left behind living the best life we can with each breath we are given.

Until we see your sweet face again…mom loves you, PJ.