Today is May 7, Lord. This is a special day to me and J. It marks the 7th anniversary of a day that changed our lives. A day that I know changed me as a person forever. This is the day that our son, Stephen, took his last breath on earth and inhaled the perfect air of heaven. I still miss him, Lord.
You know I don't dwell on it. I don't endure every day with sadness like I did the first year or so. My heart has adjusted to not seeing him, not touching him, not hearing his footsteps or the funny way he said, "Mumma" instead of "Mama." That's what it means to "pick up the pieces and go on", isn't it? We make adjustments.
I'm so grateful that Stephen is living out eternity with You. And I'm grateful that You gave me the comfort of knowing for sure that he is in heaven. Thank You for the tender way You have comforted me and J. and our children, T. and D. in Stephen's absence.
You and I know that I am not the same person I was before his death. Before, I thought I was such a strong, tough person who could survive anything. I faced life with my jaws locked. Since Stephen's death, I live each day knowing not only how precarious life is, but how fragile and delicate a person I really am. I live daily with the proof in my heart of how much we all need each other's love and support on this earth, and how fantastically able and willing You are to meet the deepest needs of our wounded hearts.
One day you'll trade this delicate frame for your eternal body like Stephen did. For each of you, the moment appointed for that exchange is in My hands. I'll take care of you, dear Little One, on this side of the exchange, just like I will on the other side. I love you too much to do less.