Today, I cleaned the garage. It was a mess of scooters, bikes, tools, and four bags of garbage. My 15 passenger van, “Moby Dick”, now fits inside. Yes, I drive a church van. The idea was we’d put two kids per bench for our 34 hour drives to visit family and take out the back bench for packing. Now, it seems overkill, but we like it. Anyway, that’s not my point.
I had time to think amidst the stuff. There was something just not sitting quite right with me about my blog post from yesterday. Something was off. Then, I came across Caleb’s tool bench and battery powered tool set that were supposed to be presents for his third birthday and one for Christmas. They had been hidden out there so they wouldn’t be found by prying eyes leading up to the special days, but were never brought in, wrapped, or given. I started to think about how I’d imagined him reacting when I bought them. Oh, how I’d envisioned him feeling like such big stuff with tools that worked and his own things to put together. I can still hear his delighted squeal and can see the focused look to follow as he diligently worked with his tools.
That’s when it hit me. I can still hear him squeal and see him playing because he lives. That’s what was bothering me. He lives in me, in our family, in all who knew him, remember him, and do good in his name. He also lives in Christ. He is with a loving Heavenly Father who I’m sure threw him the biggest welcome home party and 3rd birthday party he’s ever seen. I ended my paragraphs yesterday with “He was…”, but I should have said, “He is…”. He lives. He is perfected in all he is. He has the pleasure and joy of not having to pick what to develop and focus on. He can do it all, grow all of those talents, for he is perfected. I just pray for the strength, focus, faith, and peace we need to enjoy it all with him someday. Caleb Richard is my son. He is my vibrant, energetic, loving, feisty, odds defying miracle man…last year, today, and forever.