Nothing prepares a mama’s heart to help a son who holds a stranger as they die.
And, it doesn’t matter that he’s close to thirty than he is to three. Your mama’s heart cries with him as he agonizes over being the last person this soul ever saw.
He’s trained to deal with these situations. He knows his job well.
That doesn’t prepare him for reality.
Or you for the tug on your heart because you know how much he hurts.
This precious boy who grew to be a giant teddy bear of a man wanting only to serve his community.
This peace officer giving peace.
Holding this man as he took his last breath.
I want to hold my boy. Tell him everything is going to be alright.
To reassure him that he did all he could.
That I’m proud of him.
And God is proud of him.
But, I know that words aren’t what he needs, so I pray.
I pray that peace will flood his soul.
That he will know God’s peace.
Hear his voice.
Feel the arms of angels wrapped around him.
And I send him this
You who sit down in the High God’s presence, spend the night in Shaddai’s shadow, Say this: “God, you’re my refuge. I trust in you and I’m safe!” That’s right – he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards. His huge outstretched arms protect you – under them you’re perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm. Psalm 91:1-4.
Words of the psalmist. Words shared by his grandmother when he was a little boy and afraid of the dark.
Words of the Father for his little boy.