Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Cross (as in the Cross of Christ) (08/17/06)
- TITLE: Do I know how much He loves me?
By Author Unknown
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A blink ago, he was a happy-go-lucky kid toddling around the kitchen table, pulling out all the pots and bowls beating them like drums with my good wooden spoon. I can still feel his chubby arms around my neck and feel his warm, sticky lips on my cheek. “I love you, Mama,” he’d say with a grin and then in a heartbeat he was back outside scaring the chickens.
He never got into much trouble. Sometimes he’d say things that upset folks from time-to-time but it was always out of love. Late at night we’d sit on the bench he made, outside under the stars, and he’d explain himself away. He didn’t understand why they didn’t understand. He desperately wanted for them to see the Father God as he did. I understood, as his mother, I knew exactly where this passion came from, and I also knew that no matter how he tried to phrase it that he’d always be misunderstood.
When I saw the man he had become, the mere thought of him brought a smile to my face. I tried not to be too proud but he was a good man. He could put anyone at ease and yet he didn’t have any trouble questioning the evils in life. He even opened my heart to the truth. No respecter of persons, they’d say, but it was only because he respected all of us, every person he met.
I am still struggling to put it all together, how so gentle a boy, a man, can be hated so vilely. He kept trying to tell me that in the end the wrong would be made right, but I just don’t see how. All I see is my son, wounded, aching, in need of his mother’s love and I am helpless, unable to do a thing.
I know what he’d tell me, I hear it in my soul even now. “You have to believe, Mama,” he’d whisper, “God loves us more than you or I can imagine, and I know Him better than anyone. Have faith, Mama, have faith.”
A deep groan shakes me back into reality and everything around me goes black. The silence is deafening. The sun begins to slip back through the crevices in the sky and at once, I know it has happened. My heart catches in my throat and I want to scream but I can’t. He’s gone; a limp, soulless body that once harbored my son is hanging from a cross.
Last night my dearest friends came over. We cried a lot. I didn’t think a body could hold so many tears. “He loved you,” they said, several arms surrounding me as the wave surged over me again. Gratefully it passed easily with the truth. “Yes, he loved me,” I said with a smile that surprised me, “and he truly loved all of you, too.” After a while, we all went outside, sat on his bench, and watched the sun come up together. Tomorrow it’ll be three days since he died.
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