Robert's Psalm

This one boy of mine, he's got a passion for graves. That's him on the ground.

His Sunday School teacher asks the kids to write a psalm of where they are with God. My poor boy is in knots because words are very tricky for him. And to write a whole page and then read those out loud.... ugh. I sigh with him. Then I ask him only to start thinking. He instead started worrying.

So we began work on it one day, when time was ticking closer and closer to that deadline. I hold the pen because who can think when the blank page reflects into your eyes. He has no idea, and maybe he could be sick that day, and why should a thirteen year old have to even do this.

I think instead while he whines. I think of my favorite pictures of him in my head. When my camera died so long ago I started taking mental pictures. And those are even more precious to me than the real pictures. I can call them to mind even in the dark of the night and they never get lost or damaged. But too bad for you, I can't share them. This picture is a bit old.

So I call these memories to mind and there he is... White River, South Dakota straightening the graves, just down the road wiping the grass clippings from my father's stone, and there again kneeling over graves he has no part of and yet he is there. And his heart hangs on his sleeve... I see him bend, wipe, straighten, and sit. Often he lingers... knowing he can't tell the dates or the names... I know he pauses for other reasons. He has always lingered. So why?

I tell him to think about the cemeteries. Yeah, I can be a bit of a crazy mom sometimes. I say tell me about what you feel there. What is going on in that heart? And then I write what he says. He finishes and I ask him to think of God there. Standing by that grave and stone, what does the Father say. He knots again... who can know that. I tell him it is ok if it is as simple as it looks. So we write what we know is Truth.

So here- for those who want to know-

the psalm of my boy

In the cemetery,

I feel like I am in a building

with all the people who have passed away.

I think of their families and what were they like.

I wonder about their lives.

What did they look like?

Were they a Christian?

What kind of lives did they live?

I hope they went to a better place.

God sees me and He knows.

-Robert