Letter #19: Two Hot Chocolates

david and me st.1

A photo of the Brat and I – he’s 24 here and 20 in the below story.

He makes my heart happy.

We had a bit of a argument the other night and I sort of behaved badly so apologizing the next morning (while he was hugging me – forgiving me) I said “I guess you think I’m a bit crazy.”  I sort of, kind of, threw a framed photo of him down the basement steps after arguing with him.  We were both sleep deprived – him after a 10 day trip and me because that’s my life now – lack of sleep (menopause has simply kicked my butt!) . . . He pulled back from me (grinning) and said “Momma, I already knew this!”  We both busted out laughing.  And that best describes my life with this beautiful soul God Almighty has been so kind to allow me to journey with – JOY!

 *   *   *   *   *   *

So I got up this morning and thought “Hey, I’ll make that kid some breakfast — I never get to do that anymore.” And so I did.

8:15 a.m. arrived – no alarm clock sounds . . .

8:22 a.m. arrived – no alarm clock sounds . . .

And no David wandering down the hallway sniffing the air from the aroma of a fresh toasty breakfast English muffin egg sandwich and fresh hot chocolate (ok, it was a Swiss brand packet, but, hey, I did have to warm up the water on the stove!)

Beginning to worry that he was over-sleeping I wandered down the hallway, slowly opened his bedroom door and observed the young man rolled up in blankets attempting to stay warm.   He looked so comfortable, apparently in a deep sleep – I just hated having to awake him unto the reality of his day – school, work, homework, it’s all the kid does!

Though I regretted having to do it I called out “David, honey – awaken, Darling, to your day of toil!” He popped open his eyes and rolled towards the sounds of cheerful greetings. His precious face was contorted though, why it almost looked confused. It was a deep sleep obviously I had beckoned him from, probably even some fabulous dreams of a shiny lime green KIA Seoul and appropriately clad young women accompanying him on a road trip ( no doubt Cedar Point amusement park).

After managing to get his eyes fully cracked half way open, and focusing on the object of noise beside his bed, he realized it was me and not one of the appropriately clad young women accompanying him to Cedar Point amusement park in the car talking to him.   Whereupon he drew a deep breath of air and expelled it as a wincing sound while listening to my admonishment that he had indeed overslept!

To comfort him in his obvious state of confusion and likewise obvious need to “chop – chop” get moving or he’d be late. I stood beaming with my happy news for him, “Son, I’ve made you a hardy breakfast from which you will gather strength to face your tedious day of toil, now come on, get up”!

Finally, the lime green KIA Seoul and his friends went “poof” from his fully relaxed brain, I knew this because his eyebrows drew together as he focused on his mother cheerily standing next to his bedside all proud that she had indeed cooked his breakfast for him AND that she was saving him from being late!!!

Do you want to know what the brat kid of mine said? “Mom, it’s Good Friday, I don’t have school.”

Tip toeing out of the room I slowly closed his softly squeaking bedroom door and gingerly released the door handle wondering if it would make that click sound as it reunited with the mechanism in the door frame.

Sighing, feeling remorseful that I had woke the kid up, I turned to make my long trip down the hallway, defeated I was I tell you, defeated!

Then it hit me – there wasn’t one cup of Swiss hot chocolate with swirling aromatic scent wafting its way down the hallway. . . there was now two!!! I skipped the rest of the way into the kitchen.

THE END

 

 

 

Letter #18: Again and Again and Again

You want to know when I started to cry – it’s when I read these words “I love you Mommy” – a text written by a young man who would die moments later. Stranded in a bathroom, waiting with others for the guy with the gun.

What crossed between that son and mother in those moments is what lived between those two – the bond of a parent to their child – no matter what!

I don’t know his name but I’ve got his momma in my heart. I’ve got her in who I am.  I am David’s momma no matter what. And his father is David’s dad no matter what.

She was his “mommy” no matter what.

Her son died in a gay nightclub. And do you think you know his story now?

You don’t know his story.

You don’t know his mommy’s story.

God knows their story.

And He alone is worthy to judge their lives.

And He alone answers our prayers – even in gay nightclub bathrooms with the rancid smell of gun smoke and ear piercing gun shots exploding.

Do not think the Heavenly Father didn’t receive the return of prodigal sons this night?

What would you be doing with your sins if death was reloading outside your door?

And just for the record – the day you die you’ll be sinning.

Just maybe not in a gay nightclub.

And do you think that will matter to God?

Really?

You know what will matter to God . . .

If you know His Son and if you believe in what He did for you to remove your sin debt – the debt that you could never pay and has indeed been paid in full for you.

The people who died, died like you and I will some day- equal before the Heavenly Father, His created beings, made in His image to bear the glory of God – fallen men/women who were provided in their life time their way of escape – Jesus Christ.

Did they make it home to heaven?

That’s not the right question.

The right question is – will you be the light for those among the living – those who are so far from home. Can they see your lantern of Jesus Christ from miles away?

Can you take the heat of hell to enter into prayer for those whose lives you so disdain?

Will you be the hero for those who seek not your help but so desperately need it?

Sounds a bit like Christ doesn’t it!

So that’s the take away – from this horrible, devastating tragedy.

Be the lantern holder of the Light when the lights are out and there are those in the distance getting shot at – be the lantern holder of the Light on the hill. Light their way to Him.

Be the one they could text and say “I love you” to.

And after you’ve mourned . . .

Climb that hill – light that lantern, and push it out into the darkness again and again and again.