Sunlight danced off his face as he looked over at me, raised his arms in the air and shrieked, “Dance, momma! Dance!”
I picked up my little 17 month old toddling boy and danced. We danced in circles, his arms in the air catching the wind and mine wrapped tightly around his waist. I breathed in his sweet baby smells- the familiar scent of cheerios and grass filled my nose.
Contentment swirled around us there in the front lawn. Just another day in our lives- an ordinary and wonderful day.
Instead I planned a trip to his grave today.
But mercy rolls off me in waves as I daydream about what might have been.
This weekend, we remember His death and celebrate His resurrection. Because of His sacrifice, my son is not dead. My son is alive and well and yes- I plan a trip to his grave, but I know he’s not there. I know he lives fully in Heaven with Him who died and ROSE again for me.
And I know we will dance together some day.