Friday, December 30, 2011

Of joys and tears

We had lovely Christmas moments of welcoming our Savior and making memories with family, and I held them all a little closer in my heart this year. These days go by so quickly; we’ve seen it with our bigger kids and we see it now with the littles. We’ve learned how soon children become young adults who have to make their own choices in the world, and how short a time we are allowed the privilege of their care. There’s a feeling of safety when they’re small and we know we have control; most parents learn, as their kids reach young adult-hood, that these young people have to make their own choices - just as we did and just as humans have done since the beginning of time.

This year the moments of sweetness were especially poignant, as we’d learned on Christmas Eve morning of the death of a wonderful, kind 18-year-old who was part of our homeschooling community. The circumstances surrounding his death were heartbreaking, and any parent who’s spent much time with teens, or had a child struggle with depression or bad decision making, had the painful realization that it could have been their child, their family.

Last gifts were wrapped through tears as we tried to process the news, children were hugged a little closer, and as we celebrated the birth of our Savior, hearts cried out for this boy’s family and for the brokenness of our world, and hung on to the hope of a day when there will be no more tears.

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.
Revelation 21:4

Stopped in my tracks, aching for the grieving family, I ask myself again: can I live until that day with gratitude, never forgetting to be awed by the gifts I’ve been given?

The loss of this precious boy reminds me, even as I hold his family in prayer, to cherish the sweetness of moments that will not pass this way again, holding them in my heart.

Dear Lord;

For these days, I give thanks.

For Christmas carols sung with generations;

For our young adults, and we ask that you guard and keep them while they are away from us;

For brothers who love deeply with a bond not forged by DNA;

Brothers roasting by an open fire

For time spent with grandparents;

For the fact that You loved us enough to come down and join us in our joys and in our tears.

We ask you to comfort our friends in their unfathomable grief, and give them a peace that can only come from You.

In Jesus’ name,


Kiss your children, and enjoy the gift of this day with them. And might I ask, would you please keep our grieving friends in your prayers?

Trusting in Him,



  1. Oh, Aimee, how heartbreaking.
    Your beautiful pictures remind me of the gift of every day with our family. Praying for your friends who said good-bye to their child this side of heaven.

  2. Unfathomable. . . .what an apt word . . . I will be praying for your friends. Death around a holiday had always struck me as particularly cruel. God Bless this family and yours as you grieve with them and for them.

  3. praying too, fragile this life is.

    thanks for your good friendship.

  4. Sarah, Liz, Tonia; it is unfathomable, and yes, this life is so fragile. Things like this remind me that this world is not our home...I know your prayers are helping to hold the hurting tonight. Thank you, dear friends.