Faithful Paradox

Tomorrow would be Ezra’s 20th birthday. As with every milestone we cross, there are a myriad of emotions that come with each of these days. I have thought a lot about Ezra in recent days, remembering him in various seasons of life, longing to hear his voice, talk with him, hear his music, share time with him. Something that has come to mind often over the last few days is the fact that I feel today, in 2024, every bit as much Ezra’s mom as I felt on the day he was born in 2004. Despite the fact that he is no longer here with us on earth, when he moved on to heaven, my mothering instinct did not move with him.

It is a grievous pain for me to have all this love stored up in my heart for my son and no way to express it. There are a hundred little things I do every day for my boys to show them that I love them. For Ezra, I cannot talk with him, drive with him, buy him a cup of coffee and a morning bun. I can’t tell him I love him (well, I can, but it seems to bounce off the walls). I can’t make his favorite meal, clean up after him, rub his head, hug him. I can’t even pray for him anymore. I imagine that I will carry the desire to love and nurture him for the remainder of my life and it will remain an unmet longing.

I think God must give mothers a very unique and intense desire to nurture and care for their children as it reflects the heart of God for his own children. He wires us in such a way that many of us cannot help but want to be connected to our children. Just as we bear the image of God, there is a part of every child that literally becomes part of a mom. Science says that when a mom carries a baby in her womb, cells from that child enter into the mother’s blood and integrate into her organs for the rest of her life. Maybe that is why there is a part of me that will always long to mother my children. Despite the fact that mothering changes as seasons change, there will always be a piece of my heart that longs to feel connected to Ezra because he is a part of my heart; literally.

In my grief and pain, I wish that the mothering instinct for Ezra went to heaven with him. I wish that piece of me would cease longing to mother him and yet the reality is that there will be a forever ache that remains as I no longer get to mother and nurture my first born here on earth. As I ache, it is a reminder for me to long for the resurrection where one day, I will be reunited with Ezra. I don’t know if I will continue to be his mom in heaven (I’m not sure how that works), but I know that we will be together and that will be enough. As sweet as it was being Ezra’s mom here on earth, I know our relationship will be infinitely better in heaven, even if it is different. Samuel Rutherford wrote in a letter to a grieving mother, “Prepare yourself; you are nearer your [child] this day than you were yesterday.” Every day is one day closer to seeing my son again. Every day is one day closer to eternity and one day closer for this unmet longing to cease. For this, I rejoice.