Something

      Months before our son died, I had planned to attend one of my niece's band concerts before she graduated from Northwest Nazarene University in Nampa, ID. When her last band performance turned out to be only a month after Tracy died, we seriously considered not going. Having survived the arrangements and memorial service, but still slogging through shutting down accounts, dealing with his possessions and legal paperwork, we did not know if time away would help or hurt. In the end, we decided to go. Just as we still gathered for Easter dinner and will do the same for Tracy's birthday in a few days, life determinedly goes forward and so must we.

    The audiobook we listened to on the long drive, visiting family, the concert itself were all good distractions. But when my mind was not busy, I kept picturing Tracy lying dead on the floor of his RV. I did not see that, of course, did not even know he was in that position until the professional preparing his body for viewing told me. And I understand the Biblical truth that his spirit left his body the moment he died. But, try as I might, I could not get that lonely image out of my mind. I had been telling the Lord for a couple weeks that I needed something more from Him. I knew what I wanted--my son back--that was not going to happen. But I did not know what I needed to mentally move Tracy off that floor and into heaven, or how to again trust the God I thought I knew so well, yet was now afraid of.

    But when we left Boise and stopped in Pocatello for the night, something happened. The assistant manager who checked us in decided to upgrade our reservation. She first considered giving us a two bedroom suite, then decided to put us in her favorite room in the hotel--the Onyx suite. It had faux granite countertops, black fixtures (which are a problem to clean, but lovely to look at), a gas fireplace with one side in the living room the other in the bedroom. There were two bathrooms, the master bath had a huge whirlpool tub and a spacious three nozzle glass shower, vanity table, etc. Reed and I have stayed at some fancy places through the course of his career, and I have regarded all of them as gifts from the God who remembered and greatly upgraded the childhood dreams of travel I had forgotten. But none of those spoke to me in the way this one did. It was my something, my message from God that He still loves me and wants to please me.

    I tried to convey this to the manager, Rosemary, that for the past month our lives had tasted like ashes, and the suite was a beautiful reminder that surprises are more often satisfying than sad and life could be beautiful again. If I cannot yet picture the reality of Tracy living in heaven, at least he is no longer lying on the floor. And if I cannot comprehend the inscrutable mind of God, at least He is more familiar than frightening when my mind touches His in prayer. God helping to heal my heart through a hotel room, that really is something.