Vanished

My son Blain's death came at a time when everything in his life seemed to be coming together. He was working a steady job, (finally) he was taking responsibility for his actions, (hooray) and he was taking baby steps toward active participation in his relationship with God. All was well with the world.

The previous week I made the hour and a half trip to the new apartment he and his fiance were setting up. It was a time of healing for him and me as we struggled to make our amends with one another. I remember telling him that I was still angry with his behavior but that I loved him very much. I can still feel the roughness of his cheek against mine as I hugged him goodbye that day.

That weekend he and Megan came to spend time at our home and by his own choice attended our early worship service that Sunday morning. My last moments with them were spent standing in the back of the sanctuary hugging and kissing them while telling them I was proud and loved them very much. On Friday evening of that same week they were enjoying a four wheeler ride when the throttle stuck open and Blain lost control hitting a tree. They were both killed instantly. The news of their deaths was so sudden, so unexpected it was as if they hadn't died but had vanished. The human mind is a strange and wonderful thing, and works to protect us quite quickly, letting only the tiniest bits of horror filter through from time to time. Even when presented with the body of a loved one denial and shock are at work keeping us from imploding.

The week after the funerals while driving past the building that held their apartment I looked up in anticipation only to realize that they weren't where I had seen them just two weeks earlier. The realization was so sharp I felt panicked and was overcome by the need to rush into every building in town to find them, but I knew the truth....they weren't there. They weren't anywhere on this earth. I could drive to every town around the world and look but I wouldn't find them.

I have thought of that feeling every Easter Saturday since. (Three) I imagine the disciples feeling that shock and denial of what had transpired just the day before. I wonder if any of them felt the overwhelming desire to run to every town and look for Jesus, just to be sure it wasn't a dream or some cruel joke. I feel compassion for their loss as they struggled to come to terms with not only the loss of their friend, Lord, Master, but the loss of their dreams. For all intents and purposes they had no hope. Thankfully those feelings were to be short lived as they came face to face with the hope of resurrection the next day.

The feelings of relief and joy had to be overwhelming. I don't know how their finite minds handled the Resurrected Christ. But, I think I know something of the joy they experienced that day as they received their beloved friend back from the grave. It is that same joy, that hope in the new creation of eternal life that keeps me going. It is that hope that assures me that I will one day live in the presence of my Creator free from the limitations that bind me now and that somewhere nearby I will see Blain and Megan. Until that day, I hold tight to the hope accomplished in Christ Jesus.

My prayer this Eastertide is that we all experience the hopefulness of Easter as if for the very first time. A happy Easter to all.