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Not My Son |  |
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They want my son to fight their war. They say it is an important war, the ultimate war, the final war of good versus evil. And they want my son to fight and possibly die in their war. He’s my baby, God. Oh, I know he’s taller than me and stronger than me. But no matter how old he gets, he’s still my little boy to me. You see, God, my son was a miracle. Against logic, reason and all odds, I gave birth to a perfect baby boy and my world just hasn’t been the same since. I thought I knew love. I loved my husband. I loved my family and friends. And God, I loved you. But nothing I had ever experienced previously could have prepared me for what I felt when I saw my son for the first time. I not only felt love, I felt fear. Because I knew, that I would do anything to protect my baby. And I also knew that I would not always be enough protection. That’s some cold-hearted terror. War is an insensible way of solving human issues, God. I hate it. The fighters may be killed but the ones left behind are the ones who die. My cousin, Elizabeth, lost her son to the war. She feels great pride in her son’s bravery and does all she can to honor his memory. She knows he died doing what he felt was right. But her step is unsteady now. She does not smile and her eyes are haunted. And for what, God? Are we any safer now that her son is dead? Are we any closer to peace? Is evil any less strong and good more so because her boy died? Tell me, God; what assurance do I have that the sacrifice of my son will accomplish anything more than the death of my cousin’s son did? Don’t I have some say in all this, Lord? When he was a baby, I could marvel for days at his perfection. I counted his fingers and toes and made up games just so I could hear his giggle. His coos melted me and when he gripped my finger with his tiny fist, he put a stranglehold on my heart. Who steadied him as he learned to walk? Who cheered each and every success? Who taught him the wonders of a starry night or the happiness to be found in a rainbow? Who do you think taught him to read so he could study Your word, God? Can’t evil be fought without the death of my son? Please God; don’t let them crucify my Jesus. |
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