If I could take away the pain from you,
If I could teach you everything that would bring life,
If I could hold your heart,
If I could tell you it’s all ok,
If I could free you from the chains,
If I could clear your mind,
If I could show you who you were meant to be,
If I could say no for you,
If I could be your strength,
If I could be your motivation,
If I could look you in the eyes,
If I could say that there’s more,
If I could remind you to remember in your heart,
If I could show you what you live for,
If I could throw it all away for you,
If I could wrap you in love,
If I could make life be all that you see,
you know I would.

But, dear friend, these things I cannot do. For my own humanness would be futile to save you, and I wouldn’t try, for I know there is something greater. I know it’s a struggle, and I know this life throws pain, and you trip over it sometimes. But you have not fallen. And you will not fall. Because there is One greater than me, and One that can do all the things that I only wish I could.

What can I do? Just keep watching the beauty come from a Father holding his dear child. You are so precious. And you are so free.

I’ll walk with you. And we’ll live forever.

Oh the depth of the riches and the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable His judgement and His paths beyond tracing out!

Life is full, in a way we can’t even understand. And it’s all for you.

…because love wins.

No car is enough.
No house is pretty enough.
No meal will suffice.
No goal accomplished will create the completeness you want.
Human relationships will not make everything right.

There’s a reason you’re not satisfied with anything here. Because you weren’t made for here. You were made for so, so, so much more. Take heart because eternity is beautiful. Fullness is coming. Be patient, little one. Just keep giving it all away. It’s closer than you think.

…because love wins.

She’s independent and beautiful
Wish I could be like her
She’s got the girls and the boys
So wrapped around her finger
Rumor is she’s some kind of dream
Nobody knows she cries herself to sleep

We are not that different from each other
We just want somebody to discover
Who we really are when we drop our guard
That love has gotta start with you and me

He’s on the top of the social scene
He’s stylish cool and clever
He’s got a cool attitude that screams
He’s got it all together

You’d think he’s addicted to himself
But he wishes he could be someone else

We are not that different from each other
We just want somebody to discover
Who we really are when we drop our guard
That love has gotta start with you and me

We’ve gotta come together
Oh You know you never ever have to be alone
You’ve got a hand to hold

We are not that different from each other
We just want somebody to discover
Who we really are when we drop our guard
That love has gotta start with you and me
We’ve gotta come together

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gpT9pSmimE

…because love wins.

The sunset surprises us each time we see it painted across the sky.
We’re shocked when lights turn on when it’s dark in a room.
We’re in awe when the first summer storm rolls through.
When we learn how to drive cars, we’re surprised that we can.
When our first cake tastes good, we can hardly believe it.
When a baby first looks into our eyes, our breath is taken away.
When we see the ocean the first time, all we can think to do is try to understand.
When someone dies, we’re surprised how greatly we loved them.

And all of these moments are surprises. Beyond all our wants and fears and more specifically our planning, there are those things that we could not ever plan for, held tightly in the hands of our Abba, to show us goodness in the moments we least expect. So what should we do? Let go of the plans, and trust that God will surprise us. And that His surprises are always the most beautiful things.

And that they’re usually completely unexpected.

And always more perfect than we could ever have known.

That’s how you got here. And I’m thankful for it.

I love you.

…because love wins.

You know, better than I. You know, better than I. You know. So much better than I.

…because love wins.

I never really liked playing video games. I still don’t. But, I liked being with you. I remember that purple machine with the N64 on it. It was huge. Cumbersome. Seriously hard to tote down the hallway from the other end of the pediatric wing as I moved with both crutches and my IV pole. But, when it was my hour to play it, after signing up earlier in the morning, I knew I’d get to see you if I had it.

You were four years older than me, and I looked up to you. I’m learning more about myself as I read what my mother wrote about me those days of being seven years old, but I knew, even for my entire life, that I had an admiration for the way in which you faced each day. Yeah, you got frustrated sometimes. I sure did too. But you smiled. And you laughed with me. And you moved so quickly on your crutches. You never gave up. Yet you were human, and I wanted to be like you.

You maybe could have been my husband. Or maybe just a really great big brother for a lot of years. We don’t know, and that’s ok. I had a best friend for a lot of years that made us at least so many years older than we were.

I watched you when cancer took your lungs away one piece at a time. It was a given. You would go in for a cancer checkup, and find at minimum one new spot, and there would be surgery within the week. I hated to see you hurt. I loved spending more time with you in the hospital. I would have done whatever I needed to to help you, and I enjoyed knowing that with you, I was known.

I remember the day you died. The color of the sky. The way I hadn’t even been able to handle being around you. How I was so afraid that if I watched you die, I’d have to remember you as the boy that was dying rather than the one that had let me play with his arm crutches so many times before. I cried like I had never cried before. I cried a cry that came from the depth of my soul. That had so many questions that they all simply fell to silence and awe of how much I could not understand within me.

My mom held me. She knew what I knew. And she wanted to give me back my innocence. But she couldn’t. I was twelve, and my best friend had just died. My best friend was simply never coming back on this earth. And that day, I learned of the ache of what has gone wrong in this world in a way that I have never replaced. It’s ok. It’s good to remember that we’re not home when we’re here.

This Sunday, I rode in the back seat as my parents and I passed the cemetery where his body lays. I remember the day he died too. It plays alive in me. I wonder what it would be like to stand at his grave again. You were with me then. You knew it was you next. I knew that you knew it. Everyone did.

Death is real.

Death, is a part of this earthly life.

Death, as we know it, is a part of what every life story will be.

For a long time, when I would think about both of you, I’d remember the days at your death times. I’d think back on what it was that you said last, and the way people did not understand why you were worth my tears. I’d remember you in the casket. And I’d remember what the steroids had done to your slender cheeks. I’d remember realizing that you were not there anymore. And I’d remember slipping my last letter to you alongside your hands. I knew even then that you couldn’t read it, but I also knew that I needed no one else to keep it either.

But when Sunday came, there was a light in our lives that none of us had seen before. I sat with your parents and his, and we laughed. We talked about what matters in life. We saw the trees with the same eyes, and we smiled at each other those smiles that got us through the darkest of days. We talked about the way that you did what you wanted, even after having your leg amputated. We talked about how he had been given a toy from his father when the drugs kept him from even seeing it.

And we talked about things that we weren’t even saying.

Without words, we talked about how it is that I am graduating college. How we would want to be with each other every day in that hospital without the cancer, and about how you liked tomato soup so much more than me. We talked about why you died, and how we’ll never have the answer to that, in the way our humanness knows it. We talked about how we’re satisfied without knowing. Without words, we smiled. We saw. We heard. And we lived three hours where the two of you were with us again. It is almost as though we sat under those trees where we had played basketball, and if I wanted to, I could have heard you laugh with me.

I would never wish cancer on anyone. I know you never would either. But in a sense, I wish for just a month that everyone had cancer. I wish that they would see that I miss you, because I loved you. That I loved you, because I knew there would be a day when you were not with me. And I knew there would be a day without you, because there could be a day without me. I wish everyone had cancer, so that they would love someone enough to cry from their soul.

And so then, they would maybe, just maybe, see a glimpse of how Jesus has loved them.

Death, as my pastor defined it, is separation. Isn’t that the truth? What we cry from, ache from, fear, is the separation that will come. Of a relationship. Of knowing one another. Of words. Of action. Of memories. Of remembering the color of your eyes.

But death in our worlds is not forever. Life is forever. It’s not fluffy words. It’s the truth. This Sunday, I did not remember you as someone in a casket. I remembered you as the man who would be standing alongside me loving each and every person he met, had he been able to. I remember you as the one that smiled. Just simply that. I remember you, as the man that learned to walk with me, talked with me, and lived with me.

I can’t remember you as the man who died.

But I can see enough that sitting there in that circle, I am alive. And the same ache that met me the day you left Earth burns within me today. It doesn’t tie me down though. It’s a reminder that I’m free. And it’s a reminder that there is a reason that I’m here. That I was the one who didn’t leave yet. And it’s a reminder that I need to live, so that so many more can live as well.

This summer, I am shaking hands with my past.

And I want you to know, we are not that different from each other. We all just want somebody to discover who we really are when we drop our guards. Love is going to start with you and me.

Blow up your guard now.

Love with everything.

…because love wins.

A person will never heal by filling a hole that must grow to a close on its own.

And they should never want anything else, either.

…because love wins.

Words that settle like the grace of a sparkling waterfall when they are meant:

“I trust you.”

There are few statements that will be more prized than these in the depth of any human heart. Beyond all wants and cares, we each simply desire fully to be comfortably knowing love enough to trust and be trusted, so that we may not be walking alone.

They carry so much. On their back are the words, “Beyond all my fears.” In their arms, “Beyond what you don’t know.” Upon their shoulders, “Beyond what you do know.” Painted in their eyes, “I’ll listen and believe you will honor me, always.” Held in their gentle fingers, “I’ll never doubt that your words and actions are in love.” The three small words together mean paragraphs of glances, and breaths, and emotions, and becomings, and failings, and growth, and hope.

They are words when spoken in truth, that can paint the most beautiful of murals upon the face of a shattered and falling city building wall. They turn brokenness into beauty. But as with any mural, trust cannot go without attending to. Each and every day, it must be maintained, with soft brush strokes that remove the filth from the night before, sharing with the canvas that the artist is ever present. It must be checked regularly, treated as prized, and must be valued for its fullness. Each and every piece must be maintained as though it is the greatest work the artist has ever place their feeble hands upon. If not maintained, it will wane. But it’s too precious for that, right? It must be protected and adored. Isn’t it beautiful? Look at how the sun shines upon it.

Slam.
Crack.
Crumble.

The weight of a sledgehammer. For but a moment, someone lost composure, and fell to the frustration within. The pieces fall quickly, and in one swift move, the picture as it once was, lays cracked upon the ground, as the world continues to bustle by without a thought.

Tears fill his eyes as he slowly sets down the heavy hammer, breathing deeply. His gaze leads him to shatter at his core as he watches his hand let go of the thick wooden handle. There he kneels before one of the most prized possession of each of his days. The sun still shines upon the painting of red, orange, green, and blue. But now, what was once whole, is pieces.

His mind begins to race. “Those words. Those words! Had they been shattered by the hands of someone else, I’d have someone else to blame. I could walk away. I could break and fall, and someone else could repaint.” He pauses. “But this isn’t them. This was me, the artist that created the beauty and the chaos. What I held so deeply, can no longer show its beauty.”

The grieving begins, and the he is left with a choice. “Do those words mean to me the colors and forms I once painted, or will I leave them now as they are?  Can I bear to see shattered what once brought light to my life?”

But even as it’s broken, he cannot forget the wholeness. This was once beauty, and it’s depth was thick. Can he leave it? It’ll take so long to rebuild. But maybe if he takes the time, the words won’t look the same, but instead will be made new, with even more beauty. How much more precious and valued they can be. He won’t have the energy to do it all now, but there’s always hope to be seen, if but by one brush stroke at a time.

Trust: (n) assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something.

Once it is painted, it will never not be prized. In this world of broken hearts, each only wants to believe it’s true. If the mural is painted, please, sit and adore. Pay close attention to detail, and adore it beautifully; never let it scar. Let the sun shine upon it, and the world smile with you. But if you choose one day to break it, and find then that it’s a mistake, fear not, for you once painted it, and if you love enough, the time to fix it, you’ll take.

It’s about what is painted by love; not about you.

…because love wins.