Him

He came running to me, arms in the air, beautiful smile on his face. His entire four year old body was sprinting, I put up my hand and everyone heard the "high five" he bestowed on my open palm.

In an instant I found myself wondering if I would be a part of his story someday. I wondered if he will tell his future wife about this blonde lady that stopped by when his mom was sick. I wonder if he'll ever realize that I am only one year younger then his mother when she died? He is too young to even comprehend death or sickness. He just tells me that Mommy is resting since she is tired. The room is heavy with his words as everyone knows but him.

I gather my thoughts and intentionally step back outside my head and focus on him. We talk about his day and how he has helped clean up the house. I tell him it looks good, and, it really does. He shows me his room and introduces me to all the people. I can think of no other time or no other job that someone could be keenly implanted in memories as a nice stranger. He won't remember much, but when the magnitude of his mom being gone sets in, I am sure he will remember vivid clips of her last few months forever. I hope, if he happens to remember the blonde lady, she will still bring a smile to his face and hope to his day. More than anything, I pray he will look back on this time with peace and not anger. I hope he looks with the knowledge that God brought a lot of people to him just so God could say to him, "I love you." And I hope that as God walks with him through his grief, that sprinting, smiling, and high fiving will forever be a part of his character.