Monday, April 19, 2010
Dance In Peace, Michael Zechariah Clements
On my way home January 28, Jenny told me that I really didn't want to see Zoe's frail lifeless body. She wasn't there, she told me.
So I didn't. I hang on to the last picture I took and even now, I close my eyes and try to remember what her smooth face felt against my cheek. Hear her laugh - best she could - when we played.
I think what destroys us parents is that Zoe is all better and we have to wait to see her. She can sing now, sing better than her mama, but we have to wait to hear it. That she laughs and can't stop talking like her brothers, but barring Jesus' return, we're stuck with piecing together our projection of what she looks like. And wonder if we'll know her, and she'll know us. On this earth, even after 96 weeks and 4 days, Zoe could barely lift her leg with a shoe on it.
Now her form is glorified and if you'd meet her, if you didn't know better, you'd want to bow down and worship her instead of the Glorifier inside her.
Bittersweet. Sometimes...heck, all the time, that's the best we get as parents. I raise my kids to grow up and be God followers, to love each other and work hard, and believe. Zoe did. And so do the others. But...I don't want them to go.
Bittersweet is what I'd call my relationship with my brother, Shane Clements. I found him on Twitter, a little over a year ago, asking us all for prayers for little Michael, even before Michael was born. He, unfortunately...yet fortunately...shares my torture. Minus 92 weeks and a day.
I never met Michael but I figure he's like his daddy, pressing and seeking God's heart, even right now. He's complete now, and his dad saw him broken and loved him all the same. Shane wanted Michael whole again, and Shane got his wish. After 17 days.
Michael is dancing with Zoe and he never had to know what it's like to lose, never had to learn what torture even means. Glorify. That's what he knows. Magnify.
And when God sees Shane someday, Shane's going to hear words I'll tell him now, but nowhere nearly as perfect or complete: You did it right, Shane. I'm so proud of you. Well done.