It finally happened, the day Tony and I knew would come. He’d been dragged along on trips, in the sandbox and bath tub, to the doctor office and church.  He was the side kick to numerous household super heroes, always saving the day with his back bending maneuvers.  He was the utility man, able to double as a doll for Evie or be used as a teething toy for Amelia.  We had told Elliott when we saw the small tear in the left arm- be careful because when it happens, there is no way to repair a break.  It was inevitable.  Stretch lost his arm.

Elliott, who feels all things deeply, wailed during his rest time. He had heard the warning, he knew.  Stretch was a goner.  I would be proud to say that I held Stretch in one arm and Elliott in the other and wept with him.  But that’s not at all what happened. Elliott was so upset and the scene resembled something from a skit—I had to turn my back and fake an itch on my leg so Elliott wouldn’t see me bust out laughing.  Seriously, my kid is grieving and I have a laugh attack.  I wiped my eyes (from holding back laughter, not empathy) and gathered myself trying to think of what to say.  I started out by rationalizing why all of the options for surgery he presented would not work. Sewing? the thread would pull through. Glue? wouldn’t hold a tug.  Tape? too bulky.  By this point, I was starting to feel true empathy for the hard lesson before my son.  He was a captive audience so I did what Tony would do, I started at the beginning.

God looked at everything He created and said it was good.  Everything was just the way He intended.  A snake, a lie, a refusal to take God at His word and things came undone.  From that day on all things created would also come undone; our bodies, our land, our friendships, our things.  We hurt one another’s feelings, our bodies break, created materials rot and rust. But, God sent his rescuer.  He came here to the broken land to bring us back to God.  And one day, when we meet God all things will be good again. 

Tonight as I am writing this blog, my spirit aches in anticipation of losing someone very dear to me.   In my mind, one hundred options of miraculous healing or misdiagnosis or medical breakthrough seem more fitting than what is unfolding.  If only I could write the ending. If only the rescuer could just this once make things now as they ought to be- good.  I find solace in knowing the breakdown and pain was not part of His original conception.  It’s in the longing for restoration that I am reminded of the way my God intended things to be.