I did a thing today. I’ve been dreaming of ways to break the ice, so to speak, about my children when it comes to strangers. A way to bridge that gap between the moment when someone asks about my family and how I answer. There are certainly people in this world who don’t necessarily NEED all the details and to hear about our son, but I also never know how to bring him up. Do I tell this stranger (that I may or may not see again??) about our son and ruin their day by smacking them with a weight they may or may not be able to carry? Do I leave out George Mason’s name when talking about my family because it’s just a softer - though not easier - conversation? What if I DO see this person again? Should I have just been upfront from the very beginning? Or if I don’t mention him at first, when do I? When does it ever make sense to introduce a person who never left the hospital? When is it the right time to share the few small details we know about our son, the little boy who is never out of our minds, not even for a second?
Last summer when we were trying to decide what God had for us and thought we might be leaving Utah, I struggled with all the anxiety of meeting new people. Honestly, every time I leave the house there’s a twinge of that same anxiety. A small part of me hopes to never meet anyone new, ever again. Because the thought of someone meaningful in my life not knowing my son is horrible. Except it’s the reality. All that’s left is the stories I tell and the ways and times that I share about him. So I placed his name, alongside his sister’s, on my arm. Visible for any strangers or dear friends. If someone asks me about it, I can share all the love I have for my children. I can also skim the surface of the sorrow, but it will never be hidden away. There will be no avoiding his name or his story. It will force me, or more importantly allow me to gush about both of my children. Because what mama doesn’t jump at the chance to talk about their kids!? One of mine just happens to be in heaven and not in my home.
I know that the anxiety of meeting new people will likely never fully go away, but I’m glad to have an avenue through which I can share even a small part of my sons story and all that God has done in my life through the small life of George Mason.
Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth.