Lost Children
Their likenesses do not appear on roadside billboards. Their young, innocent faces will not be seen on homemade posters hanging in the windows of businesses. Their parents will not wait for long anxious hours by the phone pleading to God for word, any word, that their precious child has been found.
For their children have been lost. Not to a kidnapper or child custody battle gone awry. Their children have been lost in car accidents, to terminal illness, a drug overdose, suicide, through miscarriage, stillbirth and a myriad of other happenings that don’t immediately make sense and likely never will.
Words uttered by others, “He’s in Heaven now”, “It’s God’s will, you know”, “All things work together for good”, pierce the very armor that has already begun to encompass their shattering hearts. And they try, really try, to understand something that cannot ever be explained to a soul forever seared by grief.
For not only was their child lost — so was their future and all the images and hopes and dreams that go along with raising children who were supposed to outlive them.
And so they dream…
Make believe children are bundled into woolen scarves and hats and mittens. Imaginary sleds drag heavily behind children snow pixies. The faint scent of wet wool and hot chocolate with marshmallows follow the sodden pathway of excited bundles of energy with red cheeks and noses and so many stories to tell.
And in the darkness when all is still, ghosts of snow angels flicker in the moonlight over diamond dust covered hills.
Invisible artwork and handmade Mother’s Day Cards cover the refrigerator. Dandelion and weed bouquets are placed proudly in a mayonnaise jar on the kitchen table with the words, “I’ll always bring you flowers mom”. But they wither and die and, like so many other empty promises become only as dust carried away by the winds of time.
Noisy slumber parties and pizza at midnight. “Can I borrow the car keys and a couple dollars?” High School Graduation — a bride, a groom — grandchildren.
First teeth and first kisses, skinned knees and bruised egos — all become words with no motion. The rhythm of life has been forever interrupted — forever changed.
Or at least that’s what our human frailties believe in the most desolate of moments. But those very moments — when touched by God’s never-changing promises bear a truth that must be heard and spoken and believed by even the most shattered of hearts.
The frantic pleas of parents with earthly vision have been forever heard and answered. Our children, those precious lost children, have been found by the One Who loves them most.
And in those moments on earth when all is still, He carries them on wings of angels over diamond dust covered hills to a place illumined only by His love.
A place called Heaven.
Jackie Deems Copyright 1995
Dear Reader,
I know the all encompassing grief of losing a child. I have lost all 3 of my children, 2 to miscarriage and 1 to terminal illness. I wrote this years ago and share it here with the hope that it will reach someone who needs to hear these words today. Please know you are not alone…
