Looks like balloons were not the only thing flying on Brock’s Birthday! Today we received this American Flag that flew over the US Capitol Building in memory of Brock on his birthday. My dear college friend, Beth and her family requested for it to be flown. Thanks Beth! Brock’s Birthday was truly remembered in such special ways.
I have seen many flags flying lately as I have been at the ball field every day since last Friday. Except tonight, (so I gave four haircuts this evening). The weather has been beautiful, so I haven’t much minded being outdoors. However, I forgot the hurts the ball field brings. I remember last year telling myself to put one foot in front of the other as I walked past the playground for the first time. The hurt was so paralyzing. Brock had just been there. I could see him on the slide. I even had to blink a little longer as my brain would play tricks on me as I would look for him. I would turn quickly as I thought I caught sight of his curly head. I could hear his laughter in the other children playing. I sat during the whole game. I had not done that since Asa, our 13 year old, began playing ball eight years ago. I always had a baby or little one that kept me watching the ballgame from the playground. When “my boy" would get up to bat I would scoop the little one up and run to the fence so I could yell “way to go” or “run”! It is still so strange to sit and watch the games.
This year I find myself in a place of missing Brock so much at the fields. I miss seeing his excitement of getting to play on the playground, but I find myself grieving for him in a different way. Now I look at the little boys that are 4 and think, "What would Brock be like this year if his days had included a 4th year? What part of the playground would he delight in the most? Would it still be the same slide and bouncing bridge? Or, perhaps something new that would show off his big boys skills? Maybe he would not be interested in the playground as much but in the woods that border the field." This year the grief is different but yet the same. This year I also ache for the little boy that Brock would have become. I grieve not knowing the 4 year old Brock. I'm sad also that the new friends we have on the new teams don't know of our cute little fourth son. They don't know that while I sit there still, watching the game, my mind keeps trying to go to another time when I had a boy on the field to watch and one off the field to watch. So I squeeze the Lord's right hand a little tighter as I remind myself that He is here with me. Grief is funny in how each new situation can bring some new loss to grieve. It is piercing at first and then it dulls sometimes to only return again. So I am exhausted not from the busy schedule of three ball players but from combating the darts of grief. Tonight, I am thankful for a night to climb up in the Father's lap, tell Him where it hurts and breathe in deep.....aah....feels all better.
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand" Isaiah 41:10