Two years...

“You can shed tears because he is gone,

or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him only that he is gone,
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what he'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

My sweet, little friend, Emily Kopp, had that on her myspace with Cub's picture. I'm not sure where it came from; if it's a lyric to a song or a poem. I just know I liked it.

Yes, today marks two years since the car accident that ended our son, Caleb's, life at the age of ten. It's still a painful fuzz even after so much time and so many events. I have a lot on my heart today so, if you wish to ride along today, hang on.



Is Caleb still ten years old in heaven or has he celebrated the last two birthdays and turned twelve? Does he still like to skateboard, play soccer and draw pictures like he did here? Does he get to hang out with all of our relatives that have already passed on? Did God tell him how many freckles he has on his face? I tried to count them once. Did his teeth ever come in? Were they as crooked as they looked like they were going to be? I know. His earthly body is still here (we were explaining that again today to Jacob at the cemetery). It's just helps to speculate, I suppose.

To those of you that remembered that today was what it is, thank you. It blesses me so much when people remember. It keeps him "alive" in a weird sort of way? Sometimes, I worry that other people forget he was here altogether (though I know they don't) and when other people mention him, it makes me happy that he's still in their mind and heart.

Last night, I sat and listened to a song that I normally avoid. As I did, I pictured him in each stage of his life. It's SO hard to remember sometimes (with any of my children, really). My favorite part, which is the hardest to hear, is the end. I love the way it's worded.

"Weak and wounded sinner,
Lost and left to die,
O, raise your head for Love is passing by

Come to Jesus,
Come to Jesus,
Come to Jesus and live

Now your burden's lifted,
And carried far away,
And precious blood has washed away the stain... so

Sing to Jesus ,
Sing to Jesus ,
Sing to Jesus and live

And like a newborn baby,
Don't be afraid to crawl,
And remember when you walk sometimes we fall... so

Fall on Jesus,
Fall on Jesus,
Fall on Jesus and live

Sometimes the way is lonely,
And steep and filled with pain,
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain... then

Cry to Jesus,
Cry to Jesus,
Cry to Jesus and live

O, and when the love splills over,
And music fills the night,
And when you can't contain you joy inside... then

Dance for Jesus,
Dance for Jesus,
Dance for Jesus and live

And with your final heartbeat,
Kiss the world goodbye,
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side... and

Fly to Jesus,
Fly to Jesus,
Fly to Jesus and live"

When Caleb passed away, someone gave us a copy of L.B. Cowman's daily devotional, "Streams in the Desert". Matt and I have read it together on several occasions. It's almost scary how this book coincides with our lives. Date for date, the words are always timely.

We keep it in the car which might seem strange, but for us it works. The boys and I were waiting in the car to leave for church this morning and I happened to pick it up, realizing that I had never looked at the August 5th reading. I turned to the page. The following is what I found there:

God was "pleased" (I Cor. 1:21) to take my youngest child from this world, under circumstances that caused me severe trials and pain (note - I don't remember reading before that she had lost a child). And as I returned home from the church cemetery, having just laid my little one's body in the grave, I felt a compulsion to preach to my people on the meaning of trials.

I found that the verse "My grace is sufficient for you" was the text of next week's Sunday School lesson, so I chose it as my Master's message to the congregation, as well as His message to me. Yet while trying to write the sermon, I found that in all honesty, I could not say that the words were true in my life. Therefore, I knelt down and asked the Lord to make His grace sufficient for me. While I was pleading in this way, I opened my eyes and saw this exact verse framed and hanging on the wall. My mother had given it to me a few days before, when I was still at the vacation resort where our little child had been taken from us. I had asked someone to hang it on the wall at home during my absence but had not yet noticed its words. Now as I looked up and wiped my eyes, the words met my gaze: "My grace is sufficient for you."

The word is was highlighted in bright green, while the words my and you were painted yet another color. In a moment, a message flashed straight to my soul, coming as a rebuke for having prayed such a prayer as, "Lord, make Your grace sufficient for me." His answer was almost an audible voice that said, "How dare you ask for something that is? I can not make my grace any more sufficient than I have already made it. Get up and believe it, and you will find it to be true in your life."

Life is hard. The bible says it will be. But we serve a God who has sufficient grace. Do I always feel so much at peace with this fact? No. I still have nights that I scream out in my head to God about my loss. Whether I chose to live in His grace or not, it's still there be offered.

I love and miss my son and can't wait until I get to hold him again. Until then, I want to seek God out for my purpose on this grain of sand and will really try to live in that state of offered grace.

Blessings and love.