One of the boxes that hasn’t been unpacked or stored yet in the new house is the one full of Faith’s things. Some of her things are already out in special places, I’m trying to decide what to do with the rest.
Not all of it needs to be on display, but I don’t like the thought of putting it in the basement with most of our other stored boxes either. I’ll probably have Steve carry it up to our bedroom closet. As silly as it might sound, I feel like it would be nice to have her things close by.
Today, though, I opened up that box and pulled out a candle. The candle that we lit for the third time tonight.
It’s a night to set aside time especially for her, and I’m thankful for that, but even on the days when no special candle is lit, I continue hold her close.
I water the plants growing in my classroom that were gifts when she was born and I think of her. I read her name on decorations throughout the house and I smile for her. I listen to songs that remind me of her and I cry for her. I let Natalie gently kiss her teddy bear and I talk about her.
I lift her little dress out of the box and hold it close and I miss her.
If Faith were here with us she would be 2 years and 4 months old today. Two years, twenty years, however many years until I see her again, I’ll still miss her.
Someday I won’t light a candle because we’ll be basking in the light of God’s glory together. Someday I won’t need to hold onto mementos because I will be holding her again. Someday I won’t miss her anymore because we’ll be together forever.
And on that day, when we are reunited in Heaven, there is only one thing I do for her now that will still remain.
It can’t be put on display or stored in a box, but it is the thing that matters most, beyond anything else I can ever do. Today and through eternity this one thing will never change…
I love her.