Some people believe rain is an ominous sign when it falls on a day like today. The exhausted and emotionally-drained mother, on the other hand, is relieved to see that it’s actually not as bad as she’d thought – the weather, that is. She isn’t anywhere close to g...
<p>Some people believe rain is an ominous sign when it falls on a day like today. The exhausted and emotionally-drained mother, on the other hand, is relieved to see that it’s actually not as bad as she’d thought – the weather, that is. She isn’t anywhere close to getting past the emotional storm raging inside her mind. </p>
<p>These last few days have been tough for her. Her whole life, she has always been the strong one: the one everyone turns to when help is needed. However, life has a way of testing us – a way of making even the strongest feel as though they can’t take another moment. Today is one of those tests. Today, this mother of three will say goodbye to her little boy. Standing before the open doors of the church, she glances up towards the heavens and prays that God will grant her the strength needed to make it through this day.</p>
<p>People will be arriving soon: family, friends, fellow classmates of his and their families. She has no doubt the raindrops won’t be the only beads of water on their faces. Dressed in their Sunday best, they will soon file in without a single dry eye among them. Why, how could a person <em>not </em>cry on a day like today? Her pain, much like their tears, is so obvious. The simple frame she clings to shows a 5x7 photo of a child, his hair perfectly combed and his shirt wrinkle-free. Her little boy – gone so suddenly, it seems – stands frozen in time, but her love for him only grows. It isn’t fair that someone who has done all she can for those she loves – one who has served God so faithfully and her family so intently – must endure this loss. No mother should. Yet, as she has for these last few days, she puts one heavy foot in front of the other and walks into the majestic church. Her head held high. Her heart so low.<br />
<p>Passing through the frame of the heavy wooden doors, she is once again, as she has been since she first got the news, pulled back to a moment that her mind has so lovingly filed away. </p>
<p>This doorway, the glorious view of the altar, the smell of stained wood... All bring her back to a time when her little boy reached up and grabbed his mother’s hand one Sunday morning. Feeling it, she glanced down to see him ask, “Do I look nice en...