My Son, My God Two Years Later

Two years.

That is insane.  Two years of struggle. Two years of grief.  Two years of faith.  Two years of love.  Two years of remembering.  Two years of questions.  Two years of keeping it together.  Two years of asking God to help us move around with this weight.

Two years ago, things got a little hairy for us.  We had a delightful little boy and then in the blink of an eye, we didn't.  Everything changed.

I remember sitting in the room with the pastor, the chaplain and maybe a nurse or something.  It was a helpless and barren feeling.  Nothing could be done.  There are images etched in my history that will never be erased, but if this becomes the focus of my memories, you may as well dig my grave as well.

Carson was a boy who loved life better than I can.  Carson was a boy who smiled so much and for so long that my cheek muscles couldn't keep up.  He was a great snuggler and the best hugger.  There was no way for him to be any more perfect.  This week's blog is a plagiarism, a rerun if you will.  Here is the blog that started Dadding As Hard As I Can:

Today was a day of endurance. The worst day of my life. Today, I watched my 4-year old's life slip away as he went to play on Heaven's playground.

It's a strange thing, I was not afraid. I was not in despair, I did not try to hide from the truth of what was happening. I ran to the arms of Jesus and did the only thing I could... I prayed. At the house, I prayed my efforts of CPR would reset my precious baby and that he would come back to me. At the hospital, I prayed for the guidance of the hands of all those trying to save his life. Now I pray for peace, strength, and guidance for the days ahead.

Carson, my 4-year-old, had down's syndrome. This means the through a genetic defect, he was better at loving, happier, smilier and all around far more fun to be with than I am. I must say that this child was a delight. He rarely had a bad day and was always ready for hugs and snuggles. He loved giving kisses and being silly.

Some people will console us by saying that it was his time, that God called him home, that they needed a new angel in heaven and other worn out poorly thought out regurgitated lines of consolation, but it is wrong. I don't know about your God, but mine doesn't take lives to teach a lesson. My God doesn't NEED anything from me, He's God. My God doesn't take, he receives. He received my son today but was no happier to do it than I was to let him go. He is cradling my dear Carson with tears in His eyes as I lay in bed feeling empty. God is not simply a big guy moving the pieces on the board and making sacrifices of this piece and that, He hurts because I hurt. He cries because my pain is His pain.

I know that God is not only standing with us through this but in us. He is in the response of our closest friends as well as the folks who take the time to help out that we barely know. I pray that others can be drawn to Christ through our ordeal.