I had an experience last week that will forever change my life. A nineteen year old UVA student died after falling from a building on campus. The UVA community as well as our church, Trinity (where his grandparents are members) have been grieving this young man's death. His parents are strong believers and are actually missionaries in Ireland. His dad "happened" to be in the US, and he and Tommy spent his last day together. The grace that family has had has been amazing.
We were on a family walk the other day and passed a group of students/adults who were on campus putting up a memorial to Tommy. As we walked by the group, we past a woman who by the look she gave Henry, I knew who she was. It was his mother. I'll never forget that look. She looked at him with a longing for and a remembrance of her son. I gave her a small smile, and we walked on as I tried not to lose it. I grieved for her loss. I grieved for the last time they spent has a family, and for the indescribable void she must be feeling.
My son was right in front of me, and I was filled with an overwhelming since of gratefulness. I made a decision that day. I want to be grateful for every mess, early morning, frustrating day with Henry. I want to not complain about staying home and being Henry's main caregiver. I want to drink in his laugh, enjoy his different stages of growth, and teach him about Jesus. We have been blessed to have been given this responsibility, and I don't want to take every day for granted.
