I know you’re too old for balloons.
All grown up and handsome. The picture of health and happiness.
I’m sure your dimples still light up the room.
Do you still have crooked pinkies? I hope so.
I know you’re too old for balloons.
But this year there would be 18 of them, all bright and colorful and bouncy. Celebrating a life I had the honor of carrying for nine months and the privilege of knowing for 15 short days. Celebrating the opportunities Jesus has given because of your story. Celebrating the fact that heaven is real and that death doesn’t win.
And wishing I could visit for the day, just long enough to bake you a cake with a candle for each year I’ve missed you.
(I’m thinking you would like yellow cake with chocolate frosting, just like your siblings.)
I know you’re too old for balloons.
But if I sent some up today, if I let them go from my little corner of the world, would you reach out and grab them as they floated by?
If I could give you a present all wrapped up in paper and ribbons, it would be a box of all the letters I’ve written you in my heart. Notes of love and the dreams I had for you.
But, truth be told, all of the dreams I had for you couldn’t come close to what you are experiencing today, what you’ve experienced for the past 18 years.
Colors I can’t imagine.
Smells I’ve never dreamed of.
Sights and sounds that would boggle my world-trapped mind.
Peace, joy, absolute fulfillment. Things we all long for on this earth.
Community in the purest sense. The greatest family reunion ever!
And the physical, mental, emotional, spiritual presence of Jesus in all His glory. The triune God right there next to you – Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Our faint glimpses can barely fathom it.
I know you’re too old for balloons.
But every party needs them. And the celebration of your life, of eternal life, deserves them.
Happy birthday, my beautiful grown up boy.
Eighteen looks good on you….
