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.