I Will Remember Joshua

Last night I read an email from a friend who shared the details of a horrific accident which claimed the life of her nearly 5 year old nephew, Joshua. Attached was the eulogy his mother gave, entitled "Just So You Remember Joshua Schmiedicke". After reading it, I knew, I would always remember Joshua.

The Mom drove her six children and two of their cousins to their parish to meet the Dad who was at confession. Some of the kids piled out of the car to go find Dad. Then, unbeknownst to Mom, Joshua climbed out of the window of the Suburban, and crawled under the vehicle, behind the rear tire.

Mom saw the need to move the vehicle a bit to let someone else park. She heard a man scream, jumped out, saw that the unimagineable had happened. She held her son's hand, comforted him, he breathed his last.

I have a son, too, about two weeks younger. He loves to play with swords, too. He is all-boy, too. In so many ways, as I read about their tragedy, I could not help but try to imagine myself in their awful, awful place.

So often when we hear of a child's death, there is someone or at least something to blame, to peg it on. Violent crimes perpetrated by the worst of criminals. A disease. Something that could have, should have been done differently.

But here, I am struck by how there is only innocence. Joshua was just doing what comes naturally to boys. Mom was just doing what comes naturally to a conscientious woman who works all day to be helpful to others. There is no one and nothing to blame.

The Scripture that keeps running through my head is "Let the little children come to me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God." Oh, my dear Jesus... I do want my children to come to you... but why that way? It was almost as if Jesus just told Joshua "It's time for you to come home now. Please, follow me."

Suffering is always a mystery. At least until fruit begins to be borne. But for those closest to this suffering, they need our prayers. They need our eyes to cry their tears, our hearts to feel their pain.

Selah.

A question this brings out of my heart is: If you knew your child would be born to eternity tomorrow, would you change how you parent today?

If you can answer yes to that, then obviously you need to make that change.

When I thought on this, I realized I need to do more active listening with my son. Stop preempting his comments, stop assuming I know what he will say or assume he's "just talking silly", and actively listen to him. Sit down, spend the time, look in his eyes, play with his feet. Stop trying to do 15 things at once, as I always say I am. Those other things aren't always all that important.