Promises

February 26.  Has it really been two months?  The warm day today in Atlanta gave me mixed emotions.  Part of me wanted to embrace the change of year, and part of me ached for it to be as cold as it was two months ago, when I still had Webb.  Part of me wants to rewind to December and put my Christmas tree back up and have the feet of my 3 little boys pitter pattering underneath me while Zac and I hung ornaments.  I want to hear Webb and Whit and their "twin talk" and watch them wrestle on the floor.  I can still remember it, but I am terrified the memories are not as clear as they used to be.  I wouldn't change on minute of the way we lived Webb's 18 months with him, I just wish I could do it all again, then maybe the memories would be more permanent.  The last two months, this horrific journey of grief that had just begun, will hopefully be the worst chapter in a very long, fulfilled book of our lives, but I would do it all over again to have him for another day, another month, another year.  

This morning, I could not get out of bed.  That has not happened to me since the first couple weeks after Webb died, so I embraced it and allowed myself to stay in bed.  Most mornings I leap out of bed and start my routine with the boys, which has helped my anxiety.  But this morning, I did not feel anxious, I just felt....tired.  Something about it being the 26th affected me in a way I didn't think it would.  After I got up, I went out to the cemetery.  It was lunchtime, and there were several people coming out to see loved ones.  I sat there and picked pieces of pine straw off his grave and I wondered if he was looking down.  I told him how much I loved and missed him and how I needed him to watch over his brothers.  I cried until my eyes and chest ached.  I was again reminded of how unnatural it seemed to be visiting my child at a cemetery.  And then, I came home and played outside with Bo and Whit.  Their happiness, innocence and smiles brought me back to a more peaceful place in my soul.  Bo told us today (out of the clear blue) that Webb was not going to live with Jesus forever and ever; he was going to come home soon.  I was at a loss for words.  I just looked at him and hugged him tight.  Some days I do not have the heart to tell this little boy he will never see his brother again.  I cannot fathom it, so why should he?

 I have been thinking rather philosophically in the 2 months since I lost Webb.  Many of those thoughts are on this blog.  Most of those wonderings have come from the depth of my heartache and soul searching.  I have pondered God's works and His mercy.  I have read pages and pages of Scripture, seeking answers to my questions about heaven and God's plan for all of us.  And I can tell you what I have found: comfort.  Not despair, not anger.  My God is loving and good.  He loves us and grieves with us.  He is sad that I am sad.  He could have given me a "miracle" and saved Webb this Christmas, but the miracle would only be temporary since Webb's life would have ended one day.  The only true miracle God promises us is eternal life, not happiness on Earth.  The miracle is that when I leave this Earth, I will go straight into the arms of Jesus, and Webb will come straight into the arms of me.  Does that make this pain go away?  Absolutely not.  Will I continue to ache for Webb and be angry he is not with me?  Every day of my life.  But I still have hope.  I still have God's promise.  And that is worth living a good life.