A Post for Pip

From December, 2016

He had no name then–at least, no one had told me if he did or not.  He had no face, no mental picture, no name.  But I knew he had a soul, and I knew that every hard “situation” is made up of people–beautiful, hurting humans beings, made in the image of God.  I knew it must become personal, because he was a real person, back then too.

So I called him Pip. . .

~~~~~

They told me, and I was shocked.  I didn’t know how to cope with this.  But I knew I had to do something; even if I just had to care.

And care I did.  I prayed–hard.  I dreamed and imagined; and I hurt–with every inch of my heart.

And I called him Pip.

Then he had a face.  And then a name.  As a matter of fact, several names.  Pip wasn’t any of them.  But that was alright; all I ever wanted for him was them.  But a piece of him will always be mine too.

And in a corner of my heart, he’ll always be Pip.

I recently prayed a friend through a terrible illness, and felt the widening rings of the enthusiasm and joy that spread from her recovery, and I thanked God and let my full heart over flow.

And I bled my heart out in a dark basement, while we watched recovery fade out of sight and felt health slip through our fingers (but not hope).  I came face to face with death and felt the contact burn sear my heart.

And then I threw myself on my knees and pleaded for life.

The answer to that prayer was no.

I don’t understand why God would spark life, and then end it so soon.  I don’t understand, but I know God is good.  In the pain, in the mystery, in life, in death, in the tears, the blood, the sweat, the fire, the storms, the brokenness.  He’s good.

And I believe He loves him more than I do.  More than any of us could love Pip.

So I trust.  And I stay; and I care, and I pray.  And my mind reels and my heart bleeds, and I feel the brokenness become a part of me; like it became a part of Him as the nails drove into His skin.

I watched the funeral on the live stream, and I let the pain soak through their saturated hearts and drip onto mine.

And I loved Pip.

He opened my eyes to a new angle of the world I had always been blind to.  He touched me, and others; and broke our hearts for a crippled world.

I’ve learned to love my world, and I’ve learned there’s nothing wrong with that love: God created us in it for a reason, and He called it good.  But it’s not really my home, none of us really belong here.

Pip’s time was shorter here, but there’s still a reason for it, and God is still good.  He didn’t belong here any more than I do, and God took him home early.

This world was not his home.  There’s a reason God let us meet him, but there’s also a reason He took him back.  This was not the place for Pip.  But in heaven, there a place for him, that’s where God knew he had to go.  A place that’s perfect.

For the little boy called Pip.

7 thoughts on “A Post for Pip”

  1. Hanna……wow. First off, I just want to tell you how sorry I am your loss, and that this post touched me. Pip sounds like such a wonderful child- I can really tell that you loved him a lot.
    I love you girl, and will keep praying for you, and your family.
    Jaidyn Elise

  2. May 2017:
    I have been experiencing a significant amount of grief for a girl whose existence was unknown to me prior to her death. She was assassinated in Orlando, Florida, on June 10, 2016. I read about it the day after, but I didn’t recognize her name, so, although I felt a brief sorry for her loss, I soon forgot about the incident. Then last week I watched the movie “The Matchbreaker”. It was a silly and predictable romantic comedy, but I enjoyed it. I especially enjoyed listening to the main actress sing. I cried at the end, not because of emotions stirred by the movie, but because of what appeared on the screen prior to the credits: “In memory of Christina Grimmie, March 12, 1994 to June 10, 2016.”
    I’ve spent the last week watching and listening to her music videos. I even watched her memorial service. And I’ve cried over and over again. I cry for her parents, brother and close friends who, I’m sure, haven’t stopped crying even now, nearly a year later. I cry for her fans who keep watching her videos, wishing there could be new songs coming from this beautiful voice.
    But I didn’t lose a child. I didn’t lose a close friend. My tears are empathetic and for a lost connection that developed as I watched a movie and music videos. I don’t completely understand the pain, but I can’t deny that the pain is real. But I know it will fade. I just have to stop listening to her for awhile.

    Hanna, a month after I wrote this, on June 10th, I lit a candle for Christina. And I haven’t stopped listening to her. But there’s one song I can’t listen to. It’s the cover she did of “Titanium”.
    Do you have songs like that? Songs you know will absolutely make you cry every time? Reading about Pip reminded me of “Ronan” by Taylor Swift (and Maya Thompson). It’s on YouTube, but don’t listen to it. Unless you really want to cry.

Leave a Reply to Micaiah Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *