Lovely Life ...An Exquisite Gift
10/31/2009
Today was a very tough day.
I tried to work on the basement projects but wherever I'm going today it feels like
Jaymun is going to peek around the corner and laugh. I surveyed the new space, and thought about putting a sofa there
and how excited Jaymun would be to see a brand new room. He would open his eyes wide, grin, and jump around
(just like I do sometimes :)
I recounted a story to some friends over breakfast this morning (Field To Fork makes a great Sunrise Sandwich!)
The story is a response I gave last year to a question about tragically shortened lives of children.
The good food this morning reminded me of my analogy back then.
What makes a meal exceptional? Let's say you receive a platter about two feet wide full of mounds of food.
However, when you begin to eat, you discover it is all mediocre at best.
The potatoes are cold and lumpy, roast beef stringy, carrots soggy,
asparagus limp, corn over-cooked, etc. But there is lots of food. Huge unremarkable portions.
Obviously quantity is not the most important measurement of an exceptional meal.
Instead, imagine you sit down
...and the wait-person describes your selection in mouth-watering detail.
You hear the sizzle as the chef prepares the entree and the exclamations of the staff when they see your plate.
Your nose selects the tantalizing scent of your dish even before you see it making its way across the room,
And then it is before you. What color! What presentation!
You close your eyes ...your mouth drops open as the aroma dances through your mouth to the roots of your hair.
All this even prior to your first bite!
Although you complete the portion with a mere three heavenly mouthfuls, it is the most special meal you have ever savoured.
The memories of that time linger making it more meaningful than the longest, largest feast.
Likewise I think lives are quantified by considerations that rise above length of years.
...Reflections like texture, fragrance ...how does your life "taste" to others, how does it smell?
I still feel Jaymun's little arm around me through the day. They will always be little chubby arms that, if I pull the blanket past
will reveal his little face sleeping next to me on my pillow. With his arm out across my chest for safety.
They were beautiful soft little fingers to feel. He would slowly move them in his sleep if I touched them. Just perfect.
There are a hundred memories that come flooding back when I least expect them. Yes, the painful ones are seeing
the confusion in his depending eyes while being hurt by treatments. But God gave him special graces and love because he
still trusted, was excited to be alive, and celebrated his way past the pain.
He wanted everyone to participate in his toddler gusto.
That is the way he was, and so I still hear him running through our home spaces.
Our other children are growing up ...on the way to becoming fine young men and women.
Sean doesn't lay with his head next to me on the pillow, Devon doesn't have chubby little fingers, Kirsten doesn't rattle out words you can't understand,
and Ben is already taller than I am. I'm glad they are growing up ...that is who they are meant to be.
But Jaymun blossomed into what he will always be in our time ...a kalaidescope of toddler senses.
When I sit here in the quiet part of the evening I see lights coming on, hear the train start around the track,
and I close my eyes as Jaymun tumbles his way along - book in hand and puppy following.
His sweet taste will never be diluted by years and maturity.
Although the essence of Jaymun has traveled from here to there,
...a tantalizing promise of who Jaymun is still wafts through our air.
I love you, little buddy.
...Your Da'yeee
