A Prayer for Christopher

I blogged a couple of months ago about the death of a child on one of my cases. Of my experience standing by his hospital bed, and holding his hand, and the prayer with no words. I wrote of this child who touched my heart, and my soul, and of the change that he had made in me.

Yesterday, a group of us gathered together at the park for a balloon release in his memory. The gathering was small. His grandparents, his three sisters, and about 8 people from CPS whose lives were also touched by his life and his death.

It was a cold, clear day with the bright blue skies that make my heart happy. The winds were strong and they whipped our hair around our faces as we waited. Christopher’s grandfather passed out balloons to the little girls and to some of the others who were there. I stayed back, feeling like I didn’t really belong, but needing to be there all the same. The wind caught the balloons as soon as they were released and blew most into some nearby trees, where they stopped, their strings caught in the branches. A couple managed to fly over the trees and away, into the cloudless cerulean sky.

The grandparents asked the oldest girl to pray, but she was unable or unwilling. It was all I could do not to step in and say, please let me. Finally, the grandfather offered a short prayer. With the sentiment that Chris hadn’t had a very good life on this earth and he hoped that the next one was better.

As we left, I felt very dissatisfied. I felt that this precious child, who had so touched me, and touched so many others, through the circumstances of his pitiful life and his heartbreaking death, deserved so much more than a few balloons that got stuck in trees and a prayer of less than 25 words. He deserved so much more in this life than he received. And he deserved so much more in his death.

I talked to my pastor last night about my feelings of hurt and disappointment that this brief ceremony was all the recognition there was of this child’s life. That the legacy that he left was summed up in such few words and short time. She assured me that his legacy was so much more. That his memorial would be that his life would live on through me, as he had become a part of me. That his life, and his death, I would carry with me forever. And it would affect all that I do and all that I am, and that was the true legacy of his life. And I realized that she spoke the truth. For me, and for all those who Christopher touched.

And so I pray now the words that I wanted to speak yesterday, but could not.

Gracious God, we gather here on this cold and windy day to remember and to honor Christopher’s life. To remember who he was and to mourn who he was unable to become. Lord, we ask you to comfort the hearts of his sisters and all those who loved Chris. To wrap your loving arms around them and hold them close. To give them peace and comfort to know that even as we stand here today, shivering in the cold, that Christopher is warm and safe and whole. Loving God, we thank you for the bright sun and the beautiful blue sky that you give us a reminder that even now, Chris is running and playing in the green grass and warmth of your Heavenly Kingdom, fully healed, fully loved, and fully cherished by you. God, we thank you for the honor of knowing Chris. Some of us for a lifetime, some for only a few days. We thank you for the impact that he had on us, through both his life, and his death. We pray that you use his life to influence us to be better people and better advocates. We pray that through his tragic life and his tragic death, others will be saved. We pray this in the name of your own precious son. Amen.

It isn’t enough.

It will never be enough.

But he was enough.

And I will remember.  Always, I will remember.