This July marked the 7th anniversary of Asher going on ahead of us up to Heaven. We have a tradition of getting balloons and writing messages on them and releasing them into the air on the day he passed. This year that day happened to fall during our Lilley family vacation / family reunion to Colorado. We ended up being in beautiful Estes Park that day and after we got enough balloons for everyone we drove back to the cabin we were staying in and started to hike up to a small meadow we had found the day before. We got everyone up there, including a very pregnant Emma, small babies and a couple dogs. Everyone wrote their messages, the kids drew pictures, the adults took pictures. We cried. When the moment came and everyone had finished passing our two sharpies around we all stood at the base of the small meadow in the bright sun, beautiful patches of clouds floating vast and far above us, I started to try and talk. I wasn't able to say much, just a thank you to the most important group of people in my life for being willing to hike up to that spot and share a difficult moment with my little corner of the Lilley family. After a couple false starts I was able to make my voice cooperate enough to read from Romans 8:18-25 and Mark 10:13-16. I could see Avery (Asher's twin sister), North, Gabriel and Gwen standing just off to my left as I talked and read, tears in my eyes and my voice cracking. They just stood and watched, not moving much, no sounds. Those that know children at all, especially these children, know that when they are together as a group how rare it is for them to be still and silent. I wondered what they were thinking, what sort of memories they were forming, how this moment would look to them when they were grown. We waited a bit for the wind to shift in the right direction and then on Dads call we all let our balloons go. They rose fast and bright into the sky, taking our eyes with them for as long as they could still be picked out of the deep blue. Hugs, tears, a few short but deeply moving words from parents, brothers and sisters and then everyone headed back down, leaving Heather and I at the base of the meadow, looking up. We talked a little bit, prayed with our eyes open and wet, searching for answers that we knew weren't ever going to be there, pointed out the last visible balloon as it rose almost impossibly fast into an immense white pillow of a cloud. It looked as if it was in an incredible hurry to get where it was going, I know the feeling, I wanted to follow.
1 comment:
I especially love the line, "I want to follow."
As a parent you try to shield your children from pain. I'm not sure if that is always the right answer. God allows pain in our lives, and though I sometimes resent His methods, I am willing to allow Him that ability (as if I could do much about it).
I continue to learn that it is not the pain and suffering in our life that defines us, it is what we do with the pain and suffering. You and Heather continue to define yourselves well.
Thank you for inviting us on this path with you. Another great post.
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