We live in a world that though dark, hungers for something to fill it, to light it, and make it right. Some days we may find that we come close to making things right ourselves: the car remains clean for the weekend, a perfect summer afternoon ends with barbeque and beer, your kid scores the winning touchdown, you might even find a way to say the right thing to your wife. But like all things here, the good passes and we are left with the dark once again, hungering for something more.
Upon our loss of Beau I have found the dark to be hungry. The darkness wishes to be filled with something that is substantial. Fortunately, for those who are in Christ Jesus, the dark cannot remain hungry forever. In eternity it will indeed find its fill. In the meantime, before we taste eternity, we receive grace. And in this grace, the darkness retreats with the knowledge that it will get its fill.
The sweet taste of grace that filled my darkness today came in the form of a visit to the hospital for our final follow up check with the doctor after the events of the winter. Walking into the NICU, where we spent eight wonderful days, fills me with the sensation of being home. I feel close to my son once again, as if I am visiting his room to tuck him in. I can once again smell his smells, and hear the sounds he heard during his time here on earth. I see once again the nurses and doctors who cared for him, who remember him, and I am reminded through their testimony that he did matter.
And what is more, I am reminded that he is risen with his Christ. His life did matter. It was ordained by God. He changed us, he changed the lives of his nurses. Though he could not speak, his voice broke through the darkness of our hearts and proclaimed the reality that Christ is risen, He is risen indeed. And in that all darkness, mine, his, yours is broken and filled, never to be that hungry again.
