The Empty Places

I started a new study tonight, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I’m on page two when I’m faced with the holes that tear at my heart, the death of a child. I realize I’m destined to deal with this pain that I keep trying to hide, to run from. I have witnessed the burial of way too many children, victims of accidents, and violence, but it is the one who took his own life that still brings me to tears. I hear his cries in my sleep from the depths of Hell and I know he is the one soul I couldn’t save. I was too late. I am reminded of Rachel and how she peacefully floated away. I was unaware of her fight because she so joyfully let go. She was filled to completeness, at peace with her short time of existence. But Jeffrey screams silently of his pain; a pain that will never have a chance to heal. I pray for his soul. I pray that peace finds him. I share his story and tears fill my eyes and I choke back the pain. He is lost, forever burning in sin and sorrow and there is nothing I can do, he is out of reach. A homeless man pry’s at the meaning behind the tears. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to face the facts. He backs away, sensing that it is too painful to put to words. I scramble for an answer that will appease. He represents too many children who are in pain, who straddle a line between good and evil, who are both victims and killers waiting to take aim. He gently brushes back my hair and wipes my eyes, but he knows I am lying, running from the truth. The truth hurts too much. There is a soul in Hell that I can’t reach. A child who should have been saved, but was lost and swallowed up by the pain. That one soul constantly fills me with doubt. It shields me from God’s grace and leaves me wanting more; more answers, more grace, more peace, more joy. Yet, I feel empty from the loss.