the pain of separation

Sunday was a hard day. I hate separation. I can't think of anything I hate more. I was too sick to visit my son, and there was nothing I could do about it. I love him, I miss him, and there was no way to show him. The only way I know I can is to be there for him. I couldn't do anything but lie in bed and be alone. My husband and daughters went, of course. We promised him we'd visit, so of course they had to go without me. The day seemed so long. I couldn't make myself feel better no matter what except to let time pass. Slowly I did begin to feel better physically. But my mind was a blank and I felt completely empty inside.

I did manage to do a Bible study I've been working on, but that, too, seemed sort of busy work and didn't really speak much to my heart. I tried to sleep that night but still had a terrible sinus headache. Eventually I fell asleep and woke the next day better still. I persevered with my study and continued doing the next lessons. The study I did this morning finally pierced something deep inside. It was about adoption, God's open adoption of those who put their faith in Him. We receive the right to call Him Abba, which is a term of extreme and personal endearment. The example given was of a child who scrapes their knee and wants only Daddy to put the bandaid on. It is an exclusive term between parent and child, conferring all the rights of legal and heartfelt family ties. The thing that struck me in the lesson is there are few places where that term is used. One is used in the book of Galatians describing our adoption through Christ. There is another place that took my breathe away-when Christ was in the Garden of Gesthemane, pleading with His Father to take the cup of suffering and death away by having the sins of the world placed on His shoulders. The separation between Father and Son would be complete-something that had never happened before in all eternity, and it came down to a boy begging his father, his Abba, to save him.

As I reflected on that, and how I felt being home sick in bed on Sunday, I just could not fathom the pain of the Lord and God the Father in that moment. In my mind the cost could not have been greater-there is just no pain greater than the separation of parent and child. Tonight I got a phone call. A friend for whom I did a portrait asked would I be interested in doing a piece for the sister of a man who was murdered. She then said she is part of a group of parents who have lost children-would I also be interested in using my skills for them? Oh, God, You knew this moment would come. You gave me this gift to ease the suffering of people who know the separation You ordained for our sakes, and in so doing, to ease my own. The marvel of the love of our Heavenly Father knows no bounds.