I made the mistake of looking at an open grave today.
In the cemetery where our precious Ethan is buried, there was a tent with chairs set up... preparations made for another family to say an agonizing goodbye.
After standing over my son's grave for a time, I found myself walking purposely over to this fresh one nearby.
I walked right up to the edge of the dug earth. It was, of course, covered with the standard sheets of fake grass. But, bits of red clay had fallen in, and rested at the bottom of the container that would hold the casket. I peered down into the hole.
Surreal.
Only a few feet away my Ethan lays, in his casket deep in the red clay.
God, help me.
My husband had made a statement a few minutes earlier in front of Ethan's grave. "I'm just glad he's not here", he said.
I know he's right, but my baby's body... the same one we loved and touched and held and bounced and kissed... the one I nursed... it is here.
At our son's funeral, the minister, our good friend, talked about how God did not create us to stand over graves.
Maybe it wasn't a mistake to look at the freshly dug grave today. Maybe it feels surreal because it is.
The dictionary says surreal means "bizarre or dreamlike".
That sounds about right.
We were not created to stand over graves.
You know where I want to be when the Rapture happens?
Standing with my husband and my daughter over my sweet boy's grave.
I want to be there when it busts wide open and my son rises--- and I meet him and My Jesus in the air.
