Grief is a funny thing. Just last night I was writing about the strength I’ve found in my Father through all of. Strength that I’ve hope would be helpful and healing to those I meet who have been through or will go through loss; of any kind, but particularly of a child.  And then as I was driving Audrey to school this morning a rush of tears just flooded my eyes and my heart hurt more deeply than it has in a while.

I’m not rescinding my thoughts and feelings from last night. They are as true today as any. Actually, they are probably more true {not more true, but more relevant perhaps} on the hardest of days. I’m running, no sprinting, towards that strength and comfort. Because today the absence of George Mason seems more painful than it did yesterday. So for today, I’m going to sit in the sorrow for a bit. I’m going to allow myself to miss my son. To cry as needed. Remember his day. Call upon those deeply hidden and well kept details of the emotions, both the ups and downs, the hopes, the disappointments, the joy and the immense pain of saying hello and goodbye all in the same day. I’m going to let Audrey see me cry. I’m going to let her join in the grief, in whatever way makes sense for her. I’m going to hug her fondly and then I’m going to give her a kiss. One for her and one for her brother. And then I’m going to let her join me as I talk to Jesus. As I lay out my fears, my sorrows, my joys, my needs, and my praises. If there’s anything more uncomfortable than letting someone so intimately into your grief, I haven’t found it. But I know it’s important. It’s healing for me and hopefully healing for her. She will be without her brother for the rest of her life and I can only imagine the ways that will have shaped her as she grows from a curious and innocent toddler into a vibrant and strong adult.

John Piper said not to measure the love of God for you by health or wealth, but by how much of Himself He shows you. Those words are incredible for today. Because every time I miss my sweet son, I see a little bit more of God. And what a wonderful thing to see. Sorrowful or joyful, God is good. I’ll be eternally grateful for that truth.