Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Singing (10/31/05)
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TITLE: Singing a New Song | Previous Challenge Entry
By Teresa Hollums
11/05/05 -
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“Mom, I love you,” comes the whisper in my mind, along with the wind as I watch the maple leaves fall down around me. I imagine my son’s arms around me with his head bent close to mine and swinging right along with me. Each day as I do my meditation and prayer in my swing under the maple tree, I feel his presence still lingering and comforting me. I am sure it is God who is talking with me in an imagined form that I can be sure that He knows I understand.
Just as the leaves reveal the fall season of the year, so my son’s death, after only a year of battling with an extremely aggressive form of cancer, is now causing the gentle passing of the saddest time in my life. Grief has many seasons, the Bible says, and time does seem to be softening the fall of my periodic bouts of missing my dear son. I am not the first nor am I the last to mourn an untimely death of a child, but I am sure my grief is just as real as all of the others.
It was strange in that the last hours of his being on this earth, he had expressed his desire to be a lay minister in the Methodist church, but now he knew, as death came closer and closer to him, that he could never serve God on the physical earth that way—the physical life was becoming too painful and unbearable for him to stay. At his deathbed my son told all of us, that he thought that God would use his death to still serve Him.
“How could that be? How could that be?” my heart cried to God in protest in a song of begging and pleading for my son to be able to stay on this earth. My quiet sobs seem to come unbidden as a funeral dirge almost everyday for about a month after his death.
Now the season of one stage of grieving has past, and I realize that God is using his death as a stimulus for all who knew his sweet Christian heart, just as God it would. A new song is still forming in all of his family’s and friend’s lives. We all realize that we are the ministers that my son had wanted to become, and we are all now singing a new song of the same assurance that my son had that God still lives, blesses, and uses a contrite heart to serve Him.
“Yes,” comes the whisper in the leaves as an encore of the new song being sung. “Your son is now truly my son in heaven.”
And I rejoice in my new glorious song.
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