On Bravery
Dear Jacob,
Lions still remind me of you. Four years later and I'm still drawn to anything with lions on it.
Do you know why we say your favorite animal is a lion?
Even before we knew if you were a boy or girl, even before we knew your name, I remember praying and having this vision of lions. The majestic and brave creatures that they are - beautiful, powerful, and steady. Your dad's favorite book series highlights a lion (Aslan) as the image of who God is. The Bible mentions lions in various contexts, but we see that Jesus is both a Lion and a Lamb, and we were drawn to that.
As we awaited meeting you, we needed the strength and steadiness of the Lion and the peaceful, tender, sacrificial love of the Lamb.
So lions began to just pop up here and there, a reminder of who you are.
Naturally, I'm not really a collector, so it's not like I have a whole display of lions or something at home. But I do love subtle nods to lions: photos, jewelry, your stuffed animals... I think of you each time I see one. They're your favorite. Right? Maybe they're just my favorite for you, but I'll claim them as yours anyway.
Lions are brave.
And you, my sweet, sweet boy, have taught me about brave.
I used to think that bravery was a sort of strength in the face of any adversity where you can muster up the courage to just go for it, forgetting any of the fears. I think of daredevil-ish stunts like jumping off the highest diving board at a pool or standing on the edge of a giant building, defying heights and fears. (I don't like heights, can you tell? Those examples are all heights related...)
But you know what?
In time I've come to see that bravery is actually not quite that. I've always known that you taught me bravery, but the other images of bravery never made sense or went with it.
When we received your diagnosis in August, I didn't feel brave. I didn't choose to be in that scary place upon hearing your "terminal" news. And didn't brave people choose to be brave? Didn't they choose the risky and scary environments they put you in?
When we made decisions about how to care for your life and what to do after your death, I didn't feel brave. I didn't know what I was doing, and I just kind of decided things that seemed right in the moment but that also felt so overwhelming I didn't know much of what I was even talking about. Didn't brave people make strong decisions that they knew would carry them through the fears? Didn't they feel strong in themselves and confident in their choices?
When I walked through my front door and back into my house without you for the first time, I didn't feel brave. In fact, I turned around and started to walk back out, in tears that I couldn't do it. I had to lean on your dad as he helped me in and held my hand and told me, yes, I could. Didn't brave people stare danger in the face and go for it? I couldn't even stare my empty living room in the face, and I had to have help getting in.
When I learned to advocate for you, when I learned to advocate for me, when I continued to make decisions and desired to grow our family, and continued living and breathing and - at times - thriving, even without you here, I didn't feel brave.
I don't often feel brave.
But you helped me learn what it means to be brave.
Brave: living the kind of life where even when the circumstances we don't choose for ourselves make us continue to decide to truly live anyway.
Brave: finding my voice even when it's shaky and quiet and unsure.
Brave: being willing to change my mind when I realize that whatever I thought I wanted to do isn't working, because I know that I can trust the wisdom of those around me but I can also trust my love for my family when it motivates my actions.
Brave... not in my own strength but in His.
Brave: the way that I can actually fully let go of control and completely fall into the hands of God as he holds me fast.
Bravery isn't something manufactured, it isn't something I can produce. Bravery is a giving up of what I might think I can do, the things I can control, the things that I can influence, in order that the One who actually holds all things might continue to do what I might even think is... wrong.
Bravery is surrender.
You were brave, Jacob. You lived and breathed and lived your life as full as you could before you were born and you rested in our arms for all seven hours after. You cried when we didn't even consider it a possibility. You had a full head of hair covering what they wouldn't even consider a "full" head. You lived your life as best you could in complete and utter dependence. And you were brave.
Jacob, my little lion, you are still living brave.
Living brave in heaven. Living in the presence of the Lion and the Lamb. Living and flourishing and inheriting all that he has for you. Because you are considered worthy and full of life, even when you were labeled here on earth "incompatible with life." Because you lived resting in the arms of the ones who could care for you then, and now you live forever in the presence of the One who made you, and made you brave.
"Safe? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn't safe! But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
Mr. Beaver, about aslan, in the chronicles of narnia
Oh Jacob, you are in the presence of the King. You are in his goodness. You are celebrating and enjoying life in Heaven. The beauty, the perfection, the oasis of the presence and kingdom of God. Fully displayed, fully enjoyed, fully lived.
"A life doesn't need to be long to be meaningful" says the quote on our kitchen wall by Lindsay Letters. It's true. Your seven hours were perfect but so short. And you had a meaningful life.
Thank you for making me brave. Thank you for leading me to the Lion... and the Lamb. I'm so grateful and so proud that you are my son.
Happy (almost) 4th birthday, Jacob.
I love you.
Love, Mom.