John 11:25-26
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
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Today our son would turn 30.
We miss him:
His easy manner.
His cocked-and-ready smile.
His crazy, over-the-top humor.
His adventurous spirit.
His companionship.
His quick wit.
The way he so easily befriended the marginalized.
How he was completely cool with his being adopted.
How he hated to see those he loved suffer.
When he played his soothing guitar late at night.
How he always, ALWAYS, said “I love you” at the end of a phone conversation.
How he loved surprises.
His sincere questions about faith and life.
How he despised hypocrisy.
How easily he could forgive.
How hard he hugged.
Whenever he did his Chris Farley impersonations.
Even his tattoos (not all of them, mind you).
How he was his own unique brand.
Today he would turn 30.
Our faith reminds us every day we will see him again; not some idea of him or a mystical hologram version, but him.
In all His glory.
CS Lewis once said regarding those we love who are now in heaven we’d be tempted to fall down and worship them as the version they are now, so great is the glory they are wrapped in.
What a glorious thought.
A blind friend came to the funeral home and handed me a scrap of paper with a message his wife helped him write. It said, “Next time you see Graham he will be running toward you, gleaming.”
That will be then, thank Jesus, but today we grieve that that day is not today.
We miss him something fierce.
Another friend told Sandy and me after the funeral, “I don’t want to ‘be remembering’ Graham, I want to be knowing him.”
We do too.
I’d want to hug him hard and tell my boy so many things so much differently.
But the one thing I’d say exactly the same is “I love you son. I’m glad you’re mine.”
What I want to say to him on his 30th birthday…
What I really, REALLY want to tell him is:
“Graham Scott Mitchell, we’re so happy to see you again. We’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe.”
Thank you for sharing your heart. I thought of you all Sunday and that it was Graham’s birthday. My husband and I were married on Sept. 29, so I remember easily any events on that days. May the Lord give you all comfort and strength. Much love! Beth Bookout
What a blessing to know this, Beth! Happy *your* anniversary
Thank you for your enduring encouragement to me these years of grief and trust and sorrow and hope. My heartfelt thanks as you’ve been a true friend in it all. God bless!
Love and prayers brother. Wish there were words, actions or something I could do to bring relief from this suffering called grief. Thank you for your expressions of grief and for sharing.
Grace and peace,
Joe Elmoe
Joe. My friend. Man of God. Fellow sufferer. Thank you. You’ll never know just how these words alone carry a big load. Thank you for being as Christ to me, my friend.
God’s great grace to you!
I was thinking about Graham this week so I went to his Facebook page just to ponder. I was so taken by how much he looks like you. This amazes me with adopted children. Kayla certainly does not look like me but our personality traits have melded over the years. They just aren’t children we adopted they are our children. What a blessing to be chosen as their parents. I understand your longing to be there to hold him to talk to him. I’m right there with you and I have to be careful how I speak about it with my children because I can tell it upsets them. You know how you pack to go on a trip? Well, I find myself unpacking to go on a trip I have longed for. I’m cleaning out, giving away; just plain unloading before I leave. I don’t want any messes or confusion left behind. Hey, I’m a planner! I’m just so tired of this evil place and I long to see Jesus. Maybe that’s the good part of getting older. The stuff of this earth becomes so less important.
I know the hurting and missing never stops for you and Sandy. I can’t even begin to imagine the loss of a child. We just need to remember that this life is truly just a vapor…right now I’m really happy about that.
Becky dear, I love that analogy! Unpacking for a journey… brilliant! And it speaks so much to how our lives have been ordered of late, along with your own. Paul used similar language when he was speaking of his final days as “loosing the moorings” to set sail. Bless you for your kindred heart and the gift of your empathy.