Sunday

I married a man who likes to sit in the back of church.  He likes to have an escape, whether it is from awkward conversation or sudden explosions, he believes the back is the place to be.  So I lovingly oblige him.  The only problem is that all of the beautiful active vibrant children are also found at the back of the church, and today I couldn't help but watch them. 

I starred at the little red head in front of us as she repeatedly banged her chubby hand on the metal folding chair.  Her father's hand would muffle the noise momentarily, only to be followed by a more exuberant bang.  I noticed the restless, necessary, and unsatisfying sleep of the infant beside me in her mother's arms.  I remembered the difficulty of nap times interrupted. I noticed my friend at the front of the chapel silently snatching her child before she could make it to the stairs, then to the stage, then to the organ.

I used to do these things with Jonah.  I spent 3 hours of each Sunday chasing Jonah through the halls.  I would pull out every toy in the diaper bag, in the first 10 minutes, trying to keep him busy.  He would knock over plants, lick the windows, and consistently need a diaper change.  I was always relieved and exhausted when he would finally fall asleep, his long heavy body resting in the cradle of my inadequate arms.  Even though I often wondered why I went to church with a small child, I miss those moments.  My Sundays are very different now. 

Jonah has been gone for 4 months today.  I am constantly reminded of moments that I miss, of reasons why my heart should and can continue aching.  I see him everywhere, and think about him constantly.  My prayer in this fourth month has been that my memories of Jonah can bring me more joy than pain.  I want to be able to think of him and just remember the love and happiness his life brought to mine. I can't say that I am there yet, but I feel the balance is shifting toward joy and I'm grateful for that.  I am grateful for moments when Jordan and I talk about Jonah's antics and we laugh.  We wonder what things he might be able to do now, if he were 18 months old, and still with us.  The heartache lingers around the edges of each memory.  I'm sure it always will, but there is room for light, and life.  I felt some happiness to match my heartache as I watched these sweet children. 

After a few moments, lost in memory and observation, I leaned back in my chair and looked up.  I saw the most remarkable and simple sight.  A single shiny blue balloon, hovering alone among the vaulted ceiling beams.  It was a sight only to be seen by those who looked up.  I immediately thought of Jonah.  He loved balloons and could spot them in the most unusual places.  I am grateful I looked up.   I'm grateful for a misplaced blue balloon, for Sundays, and for mostly joyful memories. 

Children

Last week I found myself sitting at the front desk of our preschool, filling in for my mom. As children were coming and going from their classrooms, 5 year old Janice popped her head over the counter and stared at me. I said "Hi Janice!" and waited expecting a question about the bathroom, or snack time. She looked at me and said "Do you miss your little boy so much?" My heart melted and I cried "Oh, Janice yes....yes I miss him so much." She smiled, as if she knew, and skipped down the hall to her class. It almost seems silly that this little girls acknowledgment of my pain meant so much to me. But it did.

I know people wonder if I want to be around children. They wonder if it is too painful. It is so painful...but everything is painful. It is not just children that remind me of Jonah, but Walmart, and our car, and every picture and toy I have in my house, and the sounds of dogs barking. Everything. There is no escaping the things that make me think of him, and I don't want to stop thinking of him. I have accepted that the pain I feel is the price of memory.

Despite the pain I long to be with children. I love their honest and direct questions. I love that a child will hug me without hesitation. I love that they don't pass judgement. I love that my nieces and nephews talk about Jonah so freely. I love the simple drawings and flowers they make to brighten my day. I love that they don't know what is "proper" or "acceptable" behavior. Children act immediately and without fear of judgement.

I wonder what Janice's mother would have thought of such a question. Would she have apologized on her daughters behalf for being too personal. Or maybe gently pulled Janice aside to remind her about being polite. I hope not...I hope she would have waited patiently for my answer, like Janice, expressed her love, and then praised her daughter for reaching out to someone in need.

Mark 10: 13-16 And they brought young children to him, that he should touch them: and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein. And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them.