Monday, September 9, 2013

Your first broken heart: a letter to Cameron

Dear Cam

Today you were riding the too-small-for-you tricycle and you stopped and said:

‘I’m sad that Chanty is leaving.’

I called you to me. You sat in my lap on the lawn. I held you and you sobbed and we talked and prayed and sat long and silent and sad until Scott climbed on us with the frisbee.

From that morning in August 2007 when there were two pink stripes on the test I started praying five big prayers for you. One of them was for godly friends. When you started Grade 00 at the beginning of the year we prayed more than ever that God would make you mighty for others and raise up strong, special friends for you. Chantal was one of the first. She is a precious thing with enormous gentle eyes and she smiles pure sugar. She is a hand-holder and quiet-kind-word-sayer and a fun-and-games-giggler. She quickly became part of the little band – Ben, Jordan and others – who would play with you and page through books with you and imagine worlds with you and call you back inside when you hadn’t seen everyone leave. You wanted only five people at your birthday party: four boys, and Chanty. And now she’s leaving your life and your wide-open soft heart can’t imagine how far Australia really is.

I want you to know that no one can steal your story. Chanty will always be woven into this part of your history, whether or not your paths cross again. You’re different for her influence, and she is for yours. That has eternal significance – your good, God’s glory.

I want you to know that the impossible is possible. We’ve seen a Ross's Turaco in the garden three times now. We really shouldn’t have. It’s impossible that there should be a Ross’s Turaco in our garden. And yet it lopes loerie-heavy high in the yellowwood and swoops low and brilliant to the neighbours. Jesus looked at them intently and said, “Humanly speaking, it is impossible. But with God everything is possible.” (Matthew 19:26) It’s not impossible to entice exotic birds to your garden or to grow friendships across oceans and life has a funny full-circle way of working out sometimes and you never know. Just sayin’.

I want you to know that pain happens. Hearts can break over and over and nothing raises the threshold. I can’t now or ever hold your heart closed tight or imagine that you will be spared the desolate pain of journeys split or the bewildering pain of egos bruised. And one day you won’t want me to see you sobbing angry in your pillow and your brave wild heart will have to ride out those storms. But I promise you I will pray.

And I want you to know that there’s purpose. Dad and I have asked God to choose for you every friend – every teacher – every connection and interaction. Sometimes the season of a relationship is as brief as the kid sitting next to you at snack time. Sometimes it’s a lifetime. Whichever it is, it’s never for nothing. And if you look at it right, it’s always a gift.

Love you so very much, darling boy.

Mom


xx

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