When can I come to be with you, Daddy? I heard you’ve built us a mansion and have been getting my room all ready. You promised a brand new pair of cross country skis, and I just can’t wait for perfect skiing. Here, the snow doesn’t stay deep enough and my skis are old, and when the snow is best I somehow never have the time. At your place, we will glide on perfectly packed paths beside glassy seas with no concern about time or worry that the sun is going down.
You’ve mentioned the mansion’s laboratory, a place to explore to heart’s delight the physical realities of this glorious new abode. I can’t wait to run to you in my childlike exuberance, exclaiming, “So THAT’S how you made DNA!” and have you embrace me in a bear hug and tell me how you came up with the idea of DNA. And then try to explain how you came up with ideas in the first place. Your patient teaching will try to simplify thoughts that are so much higher than my own thoughts.
And one evening, you bring to my room a thing more precious than all delight or joy. From a deep pocket close to your heart, you present me with a glass bottle with my name, written in your handwriting, followed by the word, “tears”. You promise in this new home, there will not be any new pain or sorrow. But these are tears from old sorrow, a lifetime of tears, carefully collected and carried near your heart. As you break open the bottle the tears begin to stream down my face exactly as they have all my life. There fall years of the nightly tears of depression, once so empty and lonely. Now they fall onto your soft, strong hands as they hold my face securely and you look me straight in the eye and promise that you are with me and that the morning will come. Tears of grief fall in torrents, but instead of falling on empty chairs, empty cribs, empty pillows, they fall on your shoulder as you hold me closer than any human ever could. I smile through the tears because I now know without a doubt that there is abundant life beyond earthly death. Finally, when the last tear has drained from the bottle, I sob in your arms for still longer, because even the tears that were never cried, you have not forgotten. All the tears of strength and holding it all together and not wanting anyone to know my struggle are flowing in sweet release and enveloped in your loving care. Deep comfort floods my body as the tears subside and I know I will never, ever, cry again because my Daddy is here.
So when can I come to be with you, Daddy? Right now there are too many tears, too much unknown, and the snow is melting to slush. I hear you whisper, “In my perfect time”. I lift my hand to Yours in trust. Because Daddy always knows best.