I Can Only Imagine

Ashley and my daughter Emily have been best friends since we moved here in December of 1999. Ashley has had a tumultuous life which has included poverty, divorce, being shuffled around from one relative's home to another, apathy bordering on neglect from both of her parents and, in the case of her dad, drug abuse and addictions. The story is too long to go into in detail. Let it suffice to say that she is a good girl in spite of unbelievable opportunities to be otherwise.She has spent a lot of time with me, in my home, in the home of Emily's dad...and she is almost a part of the family. She is involved in the youth group at church and the leaders have taken her under their wing. She has coped remarkably well.

Her dad finally seemed to be getting his act together, after years of one step forward, two steps back which included bouts of addiction, job loss, living at the Rescue Mission and serious health issues with heart disease (from the drugs perhaps?) He attended church regularly with Ashley. He had a new job and a new place to live....and it seemed he might be on the road to a new life. However that new life ended abruptly when he died last Sunday sitting in a lazy boy chair watching TV....remote in his hand. They found him with his eyes wide open...still watching TV.

Ashley was in Montana, visiting her brother for the summer. She flew there by herself on the 4th of July with a layover somewhere in California. She and her brother came home for the funeral. The girls and I went to the viewing on Thursday night. Ashley was very upset and crying. It was hard to see. His mother was there, standing by the casket, greeting those who came to pay their respects. I knew her from the brief period of time Ashley lived with her. She grabbed my hand and hugged me. "He was all alone when he died." she cried. "No he wasn't. He wasn't alone." I assured her. The scripture that declares not even a sparrow falls to the ground without the Father comes to mind as I type this. She told me she knew God was with him and that he was with God....everyone says he's with God"...but, she continued tearfully, "I don't want him to be with God. I want him to be with me." She said it several times. She thanked me for coming. She hugged my daughter Emily and told me what a good girl she is. I told the girls later in the car that even though he was a full grown man in his fifties and his mom is in her seventies, he was still her "baby". I know that feeling well.

I feel it when I look at my 6'3" 250 pound son...17...with a car and a job and a very active life that rarely includes time at home with me....yet I still feel the tug of those little hands pulling on my pant leg. I remember when I watched with awe as he grew...to my shoulder....head to head...and now he towers over me. I remember when his voice changed. It was a shock every time I talked to him. "Who are you and what did you do with Matthew!!??" But he was still my baby...and will always be my baby. Just like my two beautiful girls who are changing more and more into young women every day (what's with the boobs?) but they will live forever in my memories with chubby cheeks and chubby legs and piles and piles of Barbie dolls and Polly Pockets. So although Ashley's grandmother is mourning the death of her fifty year old son, she is also mourning the death of the little boy who tugged on her pant leg. As Ashley said at the funeral home, "He's not supposed to die before his parents."

I didn't really know him very well and truthfully his lack of care for Ashley clouded my opinion of him. I talked to him occasionally at church. He thanked me more than once for what I've done for Ashley. I was glad to hear he was getting on his feet...again. They told me he wrote a letter shortly before he died thanking everyone who stayed in his life, who hung in there with him....apologizing for the pain he had caused . He knew his heart condition was very serious (a walking time bomb was the diagnosis) and perhaps he knew his death would be sooner rather than later. Isn't that repentance? A thought hit me last night as I listened to to a popular Christian song, MercyMe's "I Can Only Imagine."

"I can only imagine what it will be like, when I walk by Your side...
I can only imagine, what my eyes will see, when Your Face is before me!
I can only imagine. I can only imagine.
Surrounded by Your Glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you, Jesus? Or in awe of You, be still?
Will I stand in Your presence, or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing 'Hallelujah!'? Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine! I can only imagine!


And I don't think he has to "imagine" anymore. He knows. Without the confines of the flesh, without the weaknesses that enslaved him to drugs he will be free, surrounded by God's glory. Another prodigal son has come home.