Lonely For My Little Boy

Lonely For Joshua

It was just one of those mornings when my little son Joshua was on my mind. It's close to the time of year when he died, and that always makes me feel lonely for him. It is impossible to forget that day, even after seventeen years, though it isn't the strong, sharp grief it used to be. I wish so much he were alive today. There are so many new inventions I could show him, and he would love them all.

* I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. John 14:18

When I first heard the term "grief work," I was stunned by the stark truth of the words. There is no magic that erases grief. Time does not erase it, either, though it does ease it, very slowly. Grief is like an unwanted, difficult chore that continues to appear, over and over, and demand to be coped with. Indeed, grief is certainly work. I think grief is experienced in close correlation to the love which is missed. The more you loved the one who is gone, the greater the pain. I often look to the Lord for help.

My mind was filled with memories of my Joshie, as I trudged out through the snow to feed the cows and sheep this morning. There are five new little lambs nursing while their mothers munch alfalfa. The three mothers try to steal grain from my bucket while I walk to the steer's pasture. Three woolly heads jostle each other, grabbing bites on the run. Two hens were busy, pecking the grain they spilled on the snow as we went. My cat sat on a tall post, watching the whole scene. I found myself thanking God for these healthy animals, and for the privilege of being here in the country.

By the time all the cows and sheep had hay, grain, and fresh water, my mood had lifted quite a bit. I fixed my thoughts on my Saviour, Who is the author of joy, love, and mercy. Instead of longing for Joshua, so I could show him the animals, I thanked God for the years we had together, and all the laughter, and precious times. All the way back to the house, I gazed at the sky, feeling so close to my Heavenly Father that it wouldn't have surprised me to see Him looking back. After all, my beloved child rests in Jesus' loving embrace, and I wouldn't call him back from that place of utter bliss.

* O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you; for in returning and rest we shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be our strength. Isaiah 26:3; 30:15

O Joy that seekest me thru pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow thru the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

George Matheson, 1842 - 1906