The First Christmas

Ian,

Does Merry Christmas sound weird to you given you can celebrate in person with Jesus? How magnificent that must be! I have wondered what you must do in Heaven, who you hang with, what you talk about, but also what you are aware of here for those of us who must go on. 

Do you walk and talk with your Grandpa Eddie who called you Rooster, or your Grandma & Grandpa Edwards who lovingly made your quilt that I cherish, or Grandma Fickess who loved you like one of her own, or Uncle Curtis who couldn’t wait to get to Heaven?

Do you have chats with Baby Boy about your mommas and their funny jokes that make each other laugh? Because, lezbehonest, we are a hoot. 

Do you and Josh hang out and pray for us as we wonder why and as we hurt deep and know that we forever will until our own time comes?

Did you meet the Boston Marathon bombing victims who passed just four days before you or the West, Texas victims who passed just two days before you, the ones you prayed for?

What about Nelson Mandela? Just today I was wondering if he is there. I know if he is, the line is long to talk to him!

What about your Christian brother from Austin Stone, Ronnie Smith? (Click orange links for more info.) Please pray for Anita and Hosea - actually - you guys already know best how to pray for them! But the pain must be excruciating today for all those that love him as it is for all those who love you.

Have you talked to Mary yet? How did she watch her perfect child, her baby boy, die for us all? How was she able to continue? Today I listened to a sermon (Born to Die) that chimed in about the song “Mary, Did You Know?” and all the evidence from the scriptures indicates that she did know the ending from the very beginning - even before Jesus' birth. She must be one tough momma.

And I know you have talked and walked with Jesus, that He must have been the first to greet you when you arrived Home. This is what keeps me moving forward—Jesus greeting me when I get Home (unless He wants to come and come soon!), and of course, seeing you. Have you had all your questions answered? Did you find out if “God died?” as you had asked me as a four year old. [I said no, God was, is and forever will be, but Ian replied, “but Jesus died.” … huh … good question, go ask your dad.] Or are the questions no longer important?

I know God’s promises to be true, that you are living eternally with the “fullness of joy” and "pleasures evermore" (Ps. 16:11); that you are in paradise (Luke 23:43), a paradise we can’t even imagine, one in which "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4). 

But today, Christmas day, the tears are flowing here on earth from your momma. The mourning is great. Crying and pain near constant. But somewhere, somewhere deep inside, intermingled with all the anguish, is joy for your own eternal joy--the peace and rest you must have now; a gift beyond all gifts. How great it must be worshipping our Savior who will one day unite us again. Please bear hug him for me as only you can and tell him Happy Birthday.

As we attempt to 'celebrate' Christmas in a few hours with your California family, you must know the best gift I was given this year (and that moving forward I can’t ever imagine being outdone until my own Homecoming) was my glimpse of Heaven and of you in May; your arms around me, your words of comfort and of love, that smile. Please thank God for me and let Him know that we want you to come again and visit—anytime and often, tonight even! But even if you don’t, you are always with us, always and forever. 

I love you, Rooster.

Mom

p.s. Your dad's blog post made me cry today - To run or not to run - back in Vacaville. Okay, everything makes me cry, but he captured so much of our lives here in Vacaville that I found myself longing for those days. 

Also, for all others, see Yours Alone for the miracle of my visit to Heaven with Ian and other miracles God has given each of us this year. May you each have a blessed Christmas.

Ian, Our Christmas Baby. We miss you.