during the quiet moments before sleep, a flood of images tumbled through
my mind—especially those horrible moments I’d spent in that tiny room at
the hospital, raging against God. I thought I had been alone, pouring out my
anger and grief in private. Staying strong for Sonja. But my son said he
had seen me...
Our mini-vacation passed without any new disasters, and we returned to
Imperial in time for me to preach on Sunday. The following week, Sonja
and her friend Sherri Schoenholz headed to Colorado Springs for the
Pike’s Peak Worship Festival, a conference on church music ministry. That
left just me and the kids at home.
Like any prudent tornado-belt family, we have a basement below our
one-story home. Ours is semifinished, with a small office and a bathroom
that lead off a large, multipurpose, rumpus room area. Colton and I were
down there one evening, as I worked on a sermon against the comforting
background of my preschooler’s action-figure war.
Colton was three years and ten months old at the time of his surgery, but
in May we had celebrated his birthday, so he was now officially four. A big
boy. The little party we had thrown was all the more special since we’d
nearly lost him.
I don’t remember exactly what day of the week it was when Colton and I
were hanging out in the basement. But I do remember that it was evening
and that Cassie wasn’t there, so she must’ve been spending the night with
a friend. As Colton played nearby, my attention drifted to our Arby’s
conversation about Jesus and the angels. I wanted to probe deeper, get
him talking again. At that age, little boys don’t exactly come up and offer
you long, detailed histories. But they will answer direct questions, usually
with direct answers. If Colton really had a supernatural encounter, I certainly
didn’t want to ask him leading questions. We had taught Colton about our
faith all his life. But if he had really seen Jesus and the angels, I wanted to
become the student, not the teacher!
Sitting at my makeshift desk, I looked over at my son as he brought
Spider-Man pouncing down on some nasty-looking creature from Star
Wars. “Hey, Colton,” I said. “Remember when we were in the car and you
talked about sitting on Jesus’ lap?”
Still on his knees, he looked up at me. “Yeah.”