It is our choice

Losing a son is gut-wrenching. It hollowed me out, taking everything I said I believed in and smashing it against concrete. I let my pain do just that with my beliefs; after all, they were far less important than my son. My son.

But my faith did reassert itself, and it did so with a question. I had to know where he was. I knew that wonderful challenging, noble, unique spirit could not just be gone. I knew he was somewhere, so I asked God where.

It was in the early morning, as I was sitting in prayer. Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, my son’s forehead was pressed up against mine. The experience was so real, I raised my right arm, putting my hand where the side of his face would be. I wanted that moment to stay, and tears rushed to my eyes as I fought to focus on his being with me rather on a way I could “keep” such a thing. I felt such peace, his peace. Then, again in my mind’s eye, I saw a narrow tunnel. The tunnel was in motion, swift motion, and the spirit of my son flew upward, backward into its course, not slowly but with great speed. The tunnel’s height was unlike anything I have ever seen, infinitely high is the best I can do to describe it. And then it was gone.

Every time I think of that experience, I am left with the feeling of joy. I have the distinct impression my son is good. He is busy. He is taken.

It is still gut wrenching, his loss. But with God there is never just darkness (cf John 1:5). He owns the darkness. It is at His command; therefore, it is at our command.

Reflection

What do you know of the light that shines in darkness?

Prayer

Oh, God, I do not want this experience. It has made me question myself. It has made me question you. It has made me question this whole idea of choice. I can doubt you. I can doubt the experience I had with my son. I can doubt the joy he so obviously shared with me. I can push it all away and focus only on my pain.

No. I accept his death. I accept his being taken by you, by your love, by your will, by your utter attractiveness. Life is more than here. It is more than the suffering we endure. And, oh, how often you are able to use that suffering to give us a deeper glimpse into you. Thank you, my Lord. Amen.

We choose what we will see.