Last night your daddy went in to check on Theo because he was crying. When he looked in Theo’s crib, he saw more than Theo. Apparently you decided it would be a good idea to climb into Theo’s crib, dolls and all, to snuggle him. I don’t know how you didn’t wake him up when you did so, because you were fast asleep when daddy found you two, so I guess you had been there awhile. Luckily you stayed fast asleep through being moved to your own bed and Theo’s midnight cries.
This morning I asked you why you left your bed to sleep with Theo. You told me you saw a bug on your pillow and got scared so you wanted to be close to Theo. Liar. But your little story made me laugh.
Evelyn, although I could tell stories like these about you nearly every day, today I am reflective. Yesterday I heard the sad news that a little boy died. His name was Evan, and he was bigger than you, but he was still so young. My heart felt instantly heavy, and hurt, upon hearing the news. I stood in our kitchen and cried, because I couldn’t imagine the pain Evan’s parent’s were feeling in that moment. As I stood there, crying, you and Theo continued on in your morning routine. You finished your eggs. Theo toddled around the apartment. I remember hearing you guys laugh with each other through my tears.
Thinking about death is not something I like doing. It scares me. It deeply saddens me. I try to avoid it whenever my mind goes down that path. The thought of losing you or your brother is more than I can bear. I pray, with all my heart and everything in me, that that is something I never face. I pray that when you have children, it is something you never face. It just seems so final. And although death happens everyday, when you look at a picture of someone that has passed, you wonder, how is that person just, gone? My heart still hurts thinking about Evan right now.
Today I just want to tell you, both of you, that I love you. Evelyn, I love you. Theo, I love you.
But, I can’t just tell you that. That won’t save you. Evelyn, Theo…we can’t cheat death. I hate talking about this, but it’s inevitable, so we must. Someone once said that death is not something we should morbidly desire, nor should it be something we fear. That stuck with me from years and years ago. So, how do we not fear death?
We don’t have to fear it by having a faith and a hope in a God that is bigger than us and greater than death.
Romans 10:13 says “for everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
This is not something that I can just tell you. You have to think deeply about it. You have to read. You have to come to a decision for yourself. Matters of life and death and what you think about it are not things that I can spoon feed to you. It has to be yours. Can I tell you something? I’m still figuring it out myself. I have been a Christian and professed Christ my whole life, mainly because that is what I was taught to do as a child. What I’m realizing is that that doesn’t make it any less real. Just because I didn’t always take is as my own as a child, doesn’t mean I can’t do that now. I still doubt, I still fear and I still feel uncertain at times of myself in this world. But I can’t deny the truth of the gospel and the difference it has made in my life. I can’t convince you, I can’t answer all your questions, I can’t even persuade you by logic. I just know that this faith and His words have been and continue to be real and true to me.
It’ll be messy and confusing and hard. But the struggle to decide what you believe is worth it, don’t you think? My advice, Evelyn and Theo, is this: call on His name.
The Gospel Song
“Holy God, in love became
Perfect man, to bear our blame
On the cross, He took my sins
By His death, I live again.”
Your life in Instagrams this past month or so…although this post was really to you both, Theo, you already got pics. Sorry bud.
Your shoes after less than 24 hours of use.
When you encounter people on the sidewalk I’m trying to teach you to say “Excuse me,” which you do, but you like to add, “Can you move?”
When we’re out for walks and you see men running with their shirts off you like to scream, “Mommy! He’s naked!”