But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not,
to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
Laid neatly across the top of the casket the banners told a story: "Grandson" ; "Nephew" ; "Cousin" ; "Friend". I had not gotten the chance to get the complete story behind the eight year old boy who lays inside the white casket that holds his body. I did know the story behind the soccer ball that sat to the left of the white roses that rested on top of the casket. I knew a total of four people in the little corner church that held the casket of the child whose spirit now rests in eternity. Amanda the nurse who cared for him, Harold and Alice who were not just his grandparents but also his guardians, and my niece Olivia who attended the service with me today. The little church was filled with relatives and friends of the little boy being cherished today as we celebrated not just the life gone but also the life lived. I would guess over 100 bodies gathered in that church today, sad for the loss of life but thanking God for allowing us to have him while he was here with us.
Losing Lars was difficult for my heart but it was aching for much more then the life lost. My heart aches for the grandparents who were raising their only grandson, their only grandchild. Lars (Gracie Lives On) was infected with the HIV virus from his birth moms use of needles to drug herself up. The best gift she ever gave her son was letting him go, giving him up for adoption and not fighting her parents on raising him in a loving caring home. Providing him with the same love they offered their daughter who decided their Christian life and rules were not for her. Yes, giving Lars up was the right thing to do. As selfish as it was for her to leave a slim fighting chance for her child to survive, it was a very unselfish thing for her to not abort his life and allow someone to care for him, love him, need him in their lives.
Sitting in the church pews with my three year old niece sitting next to me it was hard not to notice the absence of a banner that read "Son". My first thought after observing the lack of a banner that included his role in life as someone's son was that his birth mom and his dad did not deserve a banner on that casket that would recognized them as a parent, a mom, or a dad. My second thought made me angry, even angrier then left trying to figure out how you can so easily walk away from your son's life before he even knew who you were. My thought was that as much as they did not deserve to be recognized with a "Son" banner draped across that casket was that Lars DID deserve that. He WAS a son, to a mom and dad somewhere in this world. They never allowed him to have the title of son when they decided they would not be a mom and/or dad to him. I at least had that opportunity in my life even though my parents were not great parents. Lars never had that chance. It's a crime, or at least it ought to be.
All I knew about Lars moms came from his own voice when I visited him. He told me the short story about the life he knew with his mom. "My mom did drugs when she was going to have me. I was born and she went to jail. That was eight years ago and she has never come back." It broke my heart when I thought about all the memories I have of my mom that Lars never had chance to have. Even though Lars does not know any different other then eight years of life with his grandparents, I still think he got robbed in the parent department. Like I said, he has no idea what he missed and he never gave me any signs that he really ever even pondered that.
Most everything I know about Lars came to me from his grandfather, Harold, who loved him like a son and loved him deeper as his grandson. When Harold spoke to me about Lars I could feel the enormous amount of love he carried in his heart for Lars. He never regretted for a moment raising Lars, never thought twice about how much it changed his life, his wife's life. He was happy to adjust all his needs and wants to make sure Lars needs were met and his wants were few. Harold told me how easy it was to raise Lars because he was a good boy, a loving boy. Always happy, always content. Lars was just as happy to play cards with his grandpa as he was to play outside with his cousins. Lars was just as happy to help grandma in the kitchen as he was to be outside enjoying the sun.
Harold told me how there has always been many visits to the ER, and even more hospital stays. Lars would get sick, having a low immune system from his HIV disease, but would always be jovial. Smiles did not run short on the face of the eight year old boy even when he was having one of his sickest days. Laughter could be heard throughout the house they opened up to Lars and made his home. Lars never talked about a fear of his disease, if he even had one. Lars never talked poorly when he got sick and could not participate in activities that other kids did. Lars lived the life that was handed to him.
I knew from one of my visit with Lars when he was in the hospital that he loved soccer. He talked about the game as if he designed it. It was his passion. He talked about the uniform, the rules, the victory's. He talked as if he played this game every weekend. He even made the statement to me "I was born to play soccer." I found out from his grandfather that Lars did in fact have an enormous passion for the sport of soccer. However, he never stepped foot on a field. The closest he had gotten to the game was kicking his soccer ball around the backyard with his neighbor who as a newly married thirty something man, introduced the sport to Lars. His wife would take Lars to watch her husband play when Lars illness did not get in the way.
I will miss Lars and visiting him, even though we bonded at the hospital when he was at his worst. I am grateful for getting to meet him, getting to know the spirit of the little boy who just took life one day at a time and lived it as if it were his last. I am thankful to have been invited by his grandfather to the service that honored the life Lars did live and the memories shared by his "Grandparents" ; "Aunts and Uncles" ; "Cousins", and "Friends".
After the service Olivia and I were sitting in the pew before we headed out to spend some time together before we went home. I was sad and it showed through a tear rolled down my face. Olivia stood up and came to stand next to me. She wrapped her little girl hand around my big adult hand best she could. Looking at me she said "Don't worry Uncle Jett, Lars is with Gracie now." I looked at our hands held together and it made me smile. Gracie always finds a way to remind me of the Circle of Life and how she gracefully drifted from her journey on earth into a life of eternal peace and happiness. Yes, losing Lars hurts but in God's plan for eternal life we are all right were we should be, were we need to be.
"Uncle Jett," Olivia said, "I will miss Lars too because I loved him, but now he gets to play soccer in heaven with God and His kids."
"I hope so Olivia," I said, "He's on God's team now, and God always wins."
"Yup" Olivia said as she sat back and smiled big, giving me the impression that she knew more about heaven then I ever could.
