Untitled ~ part Two

“Do you want to stay in the room while I wash his body?”

Andrew had just passed from this earth to Heaven and his hands and lips were already tinged with blue. It was a moment in time when every particle of my body and mind wanted to give in and go with my son.

I wondered, “Can I simply will myself to die?”

I remembered the words I had whispered in my friend’s ear as she embraced me upon hearing Andrew’s diagnosis.
“If this doesn’t turn out like we are hoping and praying, I want to die, too.”

My worst fear was spread out before me. My beautiful twelve year old son lay in a hospital bed. No longer with us. Bright, red blood stained his upper right sleeve and the bed sheet. One of the IV's had left a pool of blood when the nurse had removed it. I hated seeing that blood and I asked the nurse to please change his gown. Seeing my son’s spilled blood upset me and I wanted it cleaned up.

The compassionate, young nurse presented me with options.
“You can leave the room while I wash his body. Or you can stay while I wash his body. Or you can help me wash his body. It’s up to you. Whatever you feel you want to do.”
I was not going to leave my son. I would help wash Andrew.
I had given him his first bath and I would give him his last.

The nurse was so gentle with my son and I wept quietly as we bathed the body of the boy I loved. I washed his perfect face with his still flawless skin. Then under his neck where I had so often scrubbed those dirty neck rings boys get from playing hard. Next I gently ran the warm, wet cloth over his legs and his feet.

Those were the same feet I had washed time and again when he was a little boy.

I thought back to that day, when in my small bathroom, I washed his toddler sized feet in the sink and felt the presence of God in such a powerful way.

When the nurse and I were finished, I kissed Andrew’s face, his shoulder, his hands and, finally, I kissed his feet.
How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the gospel of peace.

In the days to come, many of our neighbors would tell us how Andrew had impacted their lives and those of their children.
They told us how they had admired Andrew’s skill as he skateboarded on our street, how patient he had been with the younger boys and how they looked up to our son. We also heard that Andrew was always polite and friendly. And that trademark smile!

One day I will see that smile again. One day I will kiss his flawless face again. One day I will kiss my boy’s feet again.

But I have a feeling that before I do all of that, Andrew will lead me to Jesus and show me HIS nail scarred hands and feet. And I will kneel and I will wash HIS feet with my tears.

And then I will kiss the feet of Jesus.

"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”

Isaiah 52:7

Untitled ~ part One

The 25th of this month is Andrew’s 13th birthday. We never expected not to
celebrate his entry into the teenaged years with him. Just a few months ago
Andrew and I were joking that he would be driving before his older brother
who was showing no interest in obtaining a learner’s permit.
Yesterday, I watered and pulled the dead parts from the plant that rests at the
head of Andrew’s grave.

One day, several years ago when I was home schooling my two oldest
children and Andrew was nearly 18 months old, I was fasting. Although I
had not eaten I was finding it very difficult to snatch time here and there for
undisturbed prayer. Life just kept coming! I was fixing meals, doing
laundry and teaching math and reading. Andrew, at only a year and a
half, was “into” everything.

Frustrated and feeling spiritually inadequate, I finally heard my husband’s
car in the driveway. I handed Andrew to Dan and asked if he could take care
of him while I went in our bedroom to pray.

I retreated to our bedroom, closed the door and knelt by my bed. Tears trickled down my face. I felt like such a failure. I asked the Lord just what He expected of me as a mother who desired to serve Him whole heartedly and who longed to be in His presence. Tearfully I whispered to Him that my life and children were a blessing and although I did not look at them as distractions,

sometimes the duties of motherhood intruded upon my time with Him. Sighing, I rested my wet cheek upon the bed.

From the family room I heard Andrew crying for “Mommy.” My husband

tried to calm and placate him. Still on my knees I asked the Lord again, “What do you expect of me?”

I sensed this gentle response, “Go to your child.”

Just then the door burst open and a teary eyed toddler ran into my outstretched arms.

I heard my husband call out, “I’m coming. I’ll get him.”

“That’s alright,” I answered, “I’ve got him.”

I stood up, holding my son and speaking softly to soothe his frazzled nerves, a reflection of my own only moments before. As I held him I noticed his bare feet were dirty and I went toward my bathroom intent on washing his feet in the sink. Turning on the water, I heard that quiet voice again, "Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for Me."

The overwhelming love of God seemed to suspend time, when in the mundane act of washing my little boy’s feet, I sensed I was washing the feet of Jesus. The atmosphere in that small bathroom seemed to thicken as the holy presence of God descended upon Andrew and me. I dried his feet and we both breathed deeply, satisfied with this unpredictable turn of events.
My son had simply longed for the attention of his mommy, and to have her gentleness soothe away the frustrations of his day.
I had wanted to be in the presence of my Father and hear His gentle voice speak truth to my spirit.
That day my son and I both got what we wanted.


(There is more to this story…Part two occurs 10 years later.)