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
