I am tired today.

In the morning, I lose my patience with Lewis because he cries every time I walk away. In the afternoon, I take out my exhaustion on the big boys. Instead of showing them grace, I am harsh and stern with them.

At bedtime, I apologise for my grumpiness and lack of patience, and I thank them for being such wonderful boys. I tell them that it is not them, but me. During prayer time, Jamie (bless him) prays that mummy will not be so stressed.

After I put Lewis to bed, I return to the big boys. I close the door behind me and lie down on the floor with my head on Bear's bed.

In the still of the darkness, I sing them song after song.

It is my peace offering.

My way of saying "thank you" for the way they love me unconditionally. Because even when I am harsh, these amazing boys show me nothing but grace.

As I sing my last song—You Loved Me—I think of Cameron and how we sang it at his funeral.

I think of his face—his beautiful, sleeping face—and emotion washes over me.

Love. Pain. Regret. Gratitude. Joy. Hope.

My voice becomes shaky, and tears roll down my cheek. Afterwards, I say a short and quiet pray.

"Dear God, thank you that Cameron is with you..." Without skipping a beat, all the boys join me in saying, "Amen."

A moment later, Angus speaks up.

"I'm sad... I'm sad that I never got to see Cameron while he was alive..."

More tears roll down my cheek.

"I know, daring... I'm sad too... I'm sad that Cameron isn't with us, but I'm so thankful that we have you boys..."

Yes, even in the face of such a terrible loss, God has shown us grace.

Before leaving, I give them all an extra kiss goodnight.

As I lean over Gus, I whisper ever so quietly: "I love you, Angus. Thanks for being you..."

This post was originally published on The Shoemaker’s Daughter in June 2017.

Rhonda MasonComment