We are able to compartmentalize our lives most of the time, putting feelings in a box and opening when needed. My mother has always said that I feel things very deeply, but just don't let myself express it, and she is right. If I let myself connect with what is happening, and look to the future, I am overwhelmed. But sometimes it is good to look ahead, and to realize that time is short. Kenny and I remind ourselves how important it is to see Lacy whenever we can, to pray for him every day. My heart hurts on a daily basis for my boy. I feel pain in the pit of my stomach at least once a day. Every moment not filled with other tasks is spent thinking about, and praying for, our son. Memories of him as a child flood my mind. Why does time go so swiftly when children are young? Why can't I remember all the sweet and wonderful moments that we must have shared? The memories come and go. But here we are, in the here and now, and we want time to slow down.
So Tuesday night, we had our HD support group meeting and had the wonderful opportunity to talk to folks who have been through what we are going through, and have come out the other side. I asked...what can we expect? Kenny and I listened and received reassurance that we would indeed be able to get through this journey together. That we can give the comfort our son needs, and let him live his life as independently as possible.
On the way home, I began to cry. My throat hurt, I could barely speak. I don't want to swallow this bitter pill. I cried out my frustration and pain. I prayed for our son. I prayed for peace and mercy. By the time I went to bed, I was exhausted. And I had a dream.
Kenny and Lacy and I were on a beach. People were everywhere - on the beach, in the water - some were close to shore, some way out, barely visible in the ocean. Lacy was little, about 6 or so, and he darted off into the water. I couldn't catch him, and he just kept running into the waves. I called to Kenny to get him, and he started to run after him, but he stopped and pointed.
"He's okay," he said. "Look...someone has him on the other side..."
I looked and saw a house floating in the ocean. It had a wide front porch, the kind you want to sit on and rock in a rocking chair. I couldn't see Lacy, but someone on the porch waved to me, and I knew they were telling me I've got him. He's okay.
I still was craning my neck. "I can't see him!" I said. "Can you see him?"
Kenny grabbed my hand. "No, but he's okay...someone has him. See? Let's keep walking"
I felt no panic, only peace, and kept walking down the beach, knowing my boy was safe...on the other side.
All day on Wednesday, I felt a warmth and peace I have not felt in a long time. God has a place for Lacy. Someone is waiting on the other side. I know without a doubt, that the Lord gave me that dream to ease my hurting heart, and to let me know that He is preparing for the day when Lacy will run away from us and toward that inviting porch with the rocking chairs and the friendly wave that says Welcome home.