Have you ever had an event effect you so personally
but you know nothing personal about the event?
It may be a story you read in the news, something you hear at bible study, a rumor among friends. Other times it's simply an object.
A worn out teddy bear lost in a parking lot.
How did it get there?
Who does it belong to?
Is it important?
You drive down the highway and you see three crosses together.
Who were they?
What happened?
You can't help but to think about the people you will never know.
It affects you.
Three years ago I heard of a young boy, someone's son who was hit and killed by a car right in front of his house. I remember trying to process what that meant.
The loss of a child.
I cried.
A week later a mile from my house
I saw a cross.
I saw a name.
I saw a teddy bear.
This is where the boy.
A son
was killed.
This is the house
Where a mom was crying.
That cross
his name written on the cross
and that lone little bear
belonged to the crying mom inside of her house grieving her little boy.
I drive by their house everyday.
And no matter what I can't help but to pause.
I pause whatever mood I am in
My kids get silent.
And I can't help but to think about his momma.
It has been 3 years now
and many changes have happened.
A year after the cross was placed
I noticed it became crooked.
The bear was weathered and looked more like the earth than a once loved toy.
Gradually more and more bags of stuff were left by the curb for garbage pick up.
A bat.
A bag of toys.
A child's bed.
About a year or so ago I noticed empty boxes by the now dirty cross.
Boxes that were the symbol of a new baby.
Now when I drive by I can't even read his name on the cross.
It is on the ground
and the teddy bear is gone.
There is a toddler jungle gym out front and a stroller by the door.
I wonder
what is she thinking?
How is she doing?
Does she miss him?
I want to knock on her door
I want to tell her that he did not die in vain.
That I noticed.
That I care.
I want to fix his cross.
Paint it shiny white again.
And
that I will remember him.
I want to tell her that everyday for 3 years I have driven by her house and thought of her.
It reminds me that no matter how dirty the cross is
whether it's laying on the ground broken
or
painted shiny white
it doesn't matter.
What matters is what happened on that cross over 2000 years ago.
but you know nothing personal about the event?
It may be a story you read in the news, something you hear at bible study, a rumor among friends. Other times it's simply an object.
A worn out teddy bear lost in a parking lot.
How did it get there?
Who does it belong to?
Is it important?
You drive down the highway and you see three crosses together.
Who were they?
What happened?
You can't help but to think about the people you will never know.
It affects you.
Three years ago I heard of a young boy, someone's son who was hit and killed by a car right in front of his house. I remember trying to process what that meant.
The loss of a child.
I cried.
A week later a mile from my house
I saw a cross.
I saw a name.
I saw a teddy bear.
This is where the boy.
A son
was killed.
This is the house
Where a mom was crying.
That cross
his name written on the cross
and that lone little bear
belonged to the crying mom inside of her house grieving her little boy.
I drive by their house everyday.
And no matter what I can't help but to pause.
I pause whatever mood I am in
My kids get silent.
And I can't help but to think about his momma.
It has been 3 years now
and many changes have happened.
A year after the cross was placed
I noticed it became crooked.
The bear was weathered and looked more like the earth than a once loved toy.
Gradually more and more bags of stuff were left by the curb for garbage pick up.
A bat.
A bag of toys.
A child's bed.
About a year or so ago I noticed empty boxes by the now dirty cross.
Boxes that were the symbol of a new baby.
Now when I drive by I can't even read his name on the cross.
It is on the ground
and the teddy bear is gone.
There is a toddler jungle gym out front and a stroller by the door.
I wonder
what is she thinking?
How is she doing?
Does she miss him?
I want to knock on her door
I want to tell her that he did not die in vain.
That I noticed.
That I care.
I want to fix his cross.
Paint it shiny white again.
And
that I will remember him.
I want to tell her that everyday for 3 years I have driven by her house and thought of her.
It reminds me that no matter how dirty the cross is
whether it's laying on the ground broken
or
painted shiny white
it doesn't matter.
What matters is what happened on that cross over 2000 years ago.
7 comments:
yes, friend, it's really all that matters.
Thank you for this! I needed a good cry this morning. Seriously IMPORTANT reminders!
It matters! It will always matter.
Beautiful. I challenge you to let her know. Maybe don't knock on the door, maybe do, but at least leave her a note and let her know you remember with her and you pray for her healing heart. I think parents who've lost children love when others remember with them....just an idea.
LOVED this post! Thank you so much for sharing and reminding me to stop and remember and ponder. LOVE your heart.
You have an AWARD on my site! Feel free to grab and repost if you like!
God bless you friend!
Jen
Thank you for this post....I have been chewing for weeks now on the fact that a little boy with a heart condition at New Day foster home in China died. I cannot get him out of my head, his beautiful, soulful eyes, the stories of joy in his playing.
When we landed with my Georgia and headed straight to the hospital...the doctors told us she would not have lived another 30 days at the orphanage (we were able to travel almost exactly 30 days faster than planned). I hold her now, healed, joyful and mine and I just keep thinking about Tristan....
So glad that I have found your site...
nice post. thanks.
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