“Tell me a story, mama.”
Somewhere I’m sure I heard her. But I was driving and there were errands to be done and appointments to go to and…
“TELL ME A STORY, MAMA!!!”
Somehow her eyes pierced mine through the rearview mirror. But I was parking and there were coats to put on and a boot that had fallen off and...
“Mama?”
Her voice was quieter now and her hands were cupped around my face, “Mama, I need you to tell me a story about Pop Pop.”
And then it hit.
The lump in my throat. The momentary sting in my eyes. And the complete disregard for any agenda or plan.
She was the kid.
The one whose grief stopped my heart.
Every. Single. Time.
For her, death was a momentary pause.
She was here. My daddy was there. And there it was.
“Mama?”
“Okay, sis, okay... I’ll tell you a story…”
But before I could say another word she stopped me with a “Hold on, hold on...I have to find him!” I smiled a bit and even attended to the discarded boot until I looked up and saw her face...
She had closed her eyes.
To. Find. Him.
His face. His eyes. His scruffy beard.
All in place so that when I started my story she saw him.
From there we went to her watering flowers in the summer while he held her hand, to the two of them giving each other eskimo kisses just like they did the first time he held her, to their walks in the park just a few streets down.
She laughed and smiled and remembered.
And so did I.
Later that day, I thought about my girl and her story. I thought about her eyes shut tight. And I thought about her little words,“I need to find him.”
How many times had I needed the same? How many times had I needed to shut the world out? How many times had I needed to stop being slave to my agenda?
How many times had I forgotten to find Him?
When my world fell down. When my heart felt untethered. When my hard stuff dampened the joy I knew I needed.
How many times had I missed it?
The contour of His face. The love in His eyes. The grace in His countenance.
How many times had I skipped over the chance to say to the world in all its agenda and noise…
“Hold on, hold on...I have to find Him!!!”
Too. Darn. Many.
But then come days like today, when life is a little hard-edged and uncertain. When I close my eyes and remember His mercy. When I am reminded that every day is a new day and a new chance to find Him and cry out a daughter's praise.
All because a little girl in her grief said…
“Tell me a story, mama.”