it’s 8pm.  we’ve been gone almost all day.  we went to the memorial day parade this morning and then spent the rest of the day at my in~law’s.   we’ve only been home about 10 minutes.  as josh and i unload the van, the kids are busy getting their pajamas on and brushing their teeth.

i empty the contents of the cooler into the refrigerator and make my way upstairs to check on my little ones.  orville was laying on his bed crying.  i asked him what was wrong and he said nothing.  i asked him if daddy said something(that’s a perfectly fine thing to say) that upset him, like maybe to get his pajamas on instead of playing.  he said no.

i started to pick him, he was crying so hard i couldn’t imagine what was wrong.  i turned him toward me to hold him and asked him to please tell me why he was crying.  “i just want to go to Heaven,” he said.  “what do you mean?” i asked.  “i just want to go to Heaven so bad,” he said.  “because your stomach hurts so bad(his stomach was hurting earlier in the day and i thought maybe it started to hurt again)?”  “no, because i will like it better than i like it here!” he cried. “but i am not ready for you to go yet, i will miss you so much,” i told him.  he replied, “i want us all to go together.”   “but God has special things for each one of us to do and He will bring us home once we’ve done those things.  He knows the perfect time for us to join Him in Heaven,” i said.  “but i just want to go to Heaven so bad,” he continued to cry.

he was crying so hard.  just sobbing.  as i held him and rocked him all i could think was, “God, please no.  please don’t take him from me now.  please don’t take him tonight.  please don’t let this be foreshadowing.  i don’t want to be the person who has to tell the story of the night her son said he wanted to go to Heaven so bad and in the morning he was gone. oh God, please don’t take him from me now.”

he’s in bed now, this sweet precious boy of mine.  before i tucked him in i gave him a big hug and lots of kisses.  i’m upset, struggling to hold in my tears.  i’m thinking this is a boy who is simply longing for his real home, and i’m praying i’m right.  i’m not ready for him to go.

“but we are citizens of Heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives.
and we are eagerly waiting for Him to return as our Savior.”
philippians 3:20

how do i do this?

mother’s day is Sunday.  it also happens to be the day we celebrate our sixth anniversary as a family.  we talked about this tonight, right before snack time.  six years ago the 13th, the day our little ones came home.

our middle guy said he wanted to talk.  with just me.  i asked him if it was about our family and he said yes.  i offered for all of us to have a conversation over our snack.  nope, he wanted just me.

i asked if it was about them coming home.  yes, kind of.  well, we could all talk about that then.  nope, just with me.

i asked if it was about before they came home and told him that a conversation about that could encourage his brother and sister if we allowed them to join us.  nope, just me, with just him.

the kids finished their snack and up they went to brush their teeth and get ready for bed.  then my boy and i sat together at the dining room table and began to talk. no amount of training, no time spent strengthening my heart, no well rehearsed answers could have prepared me for this, his onslaught of very difficult questions.

“did they want us?”

“why didn’t they do what they needed to keep us?”

“were they mean to us?”

“did they do bad things to us?”

“did they do bad things to other people?”

“did they say goodnight to us?”

“did we have a bedtime?”

“did they get in trouble?”

“were they sad when we were taken?  or were they happy?”

on, and on, and on.

i tried my best to answer, with age appropriate answers.  that’s one of the hardest parts.  i don’t have all the answers.  but the answers i do have,  to an eight year old, don’t make much sense.  honestly, most of it doesn’t make sense to me.  how in the world is he going to understand?  there will be a day when i can let it all out there, when the truth can be known.  but not now.

it took every ounce of strength i had to not completely fall apart.  it’s so hard to look into his eyes and know his heart is broken and his mind is searching for answers.  it’s so hard to know why and not be able to fully tell him.

after talking for about twenty minutes, we needed to head toward him getting to bed.  i took his hands and told him i love him.  and i love talking with him.  and i love that he asks me these questions.  and i love that i get to give him answers.  and i asked if we could continue talking tomorrow.  he said he had one more “small” question, which turned into three questions actually, then i kissed him on the head and sent him on his way.

i stepped into the kitchen and fell to my knees.  i cried so hard i had to cover my mouth so their little ears wouldn’t hear me.  i cried out to my God.  “oh, my God, how do i do this?  why me?  why them?  why does it have to be this way?”

this song has been running through my mind since.

“hungry, i come to You
for i know You satisfy
i am empty, but i know
Your love does not run dry

so i wait for You
so i wait for You
i’m falling on my knees
offering all of me
Jesus, You’re all this heart is living for

broken, i run to You
for Your arms are open wide
i am weary, but i know
Your touch restores my life

so i wait for You
so i wait for You
i’m falling on my knees
offering all of me
Jesus, You’re all this heart is living for ”
(hungry~kathryn scott)

because it’s all about Him and not at all about me.