Holidays bring with them a multitude of emotions. I thought about that as I rode to work this morning. Another Christmas is upon us. Decorations are up and gifts have been purchased ahead of time at the Barron household. The ride into work reveals church after church offering their version of a Christmas program.
I thought back to the last Christmas we had together as a family before the accident. It was Josh's second. Just four short months before his life would end he was busily scurrying from present to present in our den floor. First his brother, then his sister--from person to person he would race to help rip off the paper and see what was inside. His favorite toy that year was a riding one, one of those with the long handle on the back that would enable mom and dad to push him around the neighborhood as we walked. That morning, as the gift was opened, he plopped himself onto the toy...and just sat. That's it. He didn't know exactly what to do but that was okay for him. He just liked sitting. And when Abby or Harrison would go to give him a push, he would look with skepticism as the toy began to move. Sitting was just fine for him.
Both siblings worked hard that day to teach Josh how to move his leg and propel the toy himself. It was pretty comical but I worked with him for a little while to learn how to sit up, push with his legs and hang onto the steering wheel. I loved teaching him things. I always did with all my kids.
In fact, the night before our accident, I had spent the evening at the hotel swimming pool teaching Josh how to hold his breath, duck his head under the water and act like a motor boat. He was a pretty quick learner.
Those thoughts continued to swim through my head as I remembered teaching Josh how to throw a ball and to blow bubbles with his wand. Then this question came to mind. Call it crazy or whatever. Do you think Josh is looking forward to a day when he will get to teach me? I mean, by the time I make it to heaven, he is going to have many years experience on his old man. I can just see him running up, grabbing my hand and saying, "Dad, you won't believe this place? It's better than anything you could have imagined. I can't wait to show you around."
Is it crazy to think such thoughts...to have such high hopes for the day that I'll get to see he and Sarah and my dad and my niece and my grandmother and all those others who have gone before me? I believe with all my heart that he's there, that they all are. And I believe he is waiting anxiously to show me the whole place...but one place in particular. I imagine he can't wait--and I can't wait to join him--to show me into the presence of the One who gave us life and, then, gave us new life. In my mind I see Josh pulling me by my sleeve into the presence of Jesus. But for now, I can only imagine...