Heart Shaped Holes

I recently lost my godfather to a battle with cancer, and in the weeks prior to his passing, there was time not only for reflection and remembrance, but also to sort out the kaleidoscope of emotions that swept through the open door of my soul as I grasped for a meaningful closure to the end of this earthly relationship.

One evening I was sitting with my husband, Rick, and giving him the Barbara Streisand [The Way We Were] version of the “Me & Uncle Joe” story.  I basically gave him a dry recounting of the relationship we didn’t have as compared to the relationships my siblings had with their godparents.  But, as I listened to myself and my objective explanations, I could hear echoes from the heart-shaped hole in the middle of my being where the anchor of that relationship should have been.  While traveling on the journey of life, we walk through vastly different landscapes with different people that have contributed to the person we have become; for us, it was mostly prairies and deserts.  Prairies because there were no high points or low points; and deserts because there were long periods of time – years – between visits.  As a child, I was an Army brat and as an adult, I traveled extensively with my husband; so, we would see each other at family gatherings and special occasions and that was it.  Our conversations were easy and casual, but not particularly deep… and never vulnerable. Unfortunately, we were too much alike: serious in nature, not a lot of tolerance for emotional drama, not overly social, and pretty much introverts.  Neither one of us was very good about reaching out and trying to build a bridge.

For the most part.

Then, I started to tell Rick a story about the card I received from him on my sixteenth birthday and about what transpired afterward.  When I was finished, he asked me if I had ever told my uncle that story and I confessed that I had not.  He encouraged me to tell him, and despite feeling very uncomfortable about such a trivial incident in light of all that he was going through on a personal (his impending death) and familial (a separate crisis in his immediate family) level – I did.

Part of the backstory here is that my Uncle Joe didn’t send me anything for any special occasions.  So, for Christmas and birthdays, all my siblings got cards and gifts from their godparents, while I did not.  I learned not to expect to be remembered or celebrated in that way and I did my best to convince myself and others that it didn’t bother me.  But that was a lie.  With each important date that slipped past, I sustained another hairline fracture that was unseen to the world but acutely felt in my heart. 

But don’t worry, these were not the things I conveyed to him – instead, I wrote from a heart healed by Jesus.  In the message I reminded him that on my sixteenth birthday he sent me card that contained $25 dollars, and I was so thrilled because I had been saving up my babysitting earnings to buy a new Chris Evert tennis racket – a hot item at the time. I got the racket and a new can of balls, and I ruled the courts after school with my friends.  It was my prize possession for two reasons:  tennis was my favorite pastime because I could be out of the house and enjoying time with my friends.  It was my stress relief. But more importantly, it was tangible evidence that I mattered, and I was not forgotten after all.  I told him that I used that racket in high school, through college, and into adulthood.  After it got too battered from over-use, my kids used it.  Wherever we were, I would see that racket and feel loved and valued.

The racket disappeared when we got back from living overseas in 2007.  Two of our boxes from storage didn’t make it – and one of them contained the racket.  I told him that I missed it, but it was wonderful to have it as long as I did and to have memories of how important it was to me.

He sent me a message back and told me that he was glad to know the story and asked me if it was the Miss Chrissy racket.  I confirmed that it was and knew immediately in my spirit that he was going to replace the racket – so, a couple of weeks later when a flat, rectangular package showed up on my front porch, I was wrecked.  I couldn't even let my husband open it for hours because I couldn't look at the box without starting to cry again.  When I finally got myself together and Rick opened the box, I found not only the racket, but a beautiful note from him.  I could literally feel scars being erased and the heart-shaped hole being filled with grace for both of us.  I have the racket in my quilting room, prominently placed where I can see it as I create.  I wrote to thank my cousin and her husband for helping him to make that happen and I sent another message to him with a picture.  She read to him – but he could not see the picture at that time.  He passed shortly thereafter, so I don’t know if he ever got to see it.  But what a heart!  To reach back through all the years and restore a precious treasure and a spiritual thread of assurance.

This was a man who understood how important it is to die well.  To spend his last days responding in love and compassion to those he would leave behind.  To appreciate the people around him that were helping him finish the business of living and prepare for the prosses of dying.  To redirect prayers away from himself and ask for prayer to cover his family.  Like the rest of us, he was not perfect – but he was righteous and godly and faithful.  He was grateful to be covered by the blood of Jesus and had his ear tuned to listen to the whispering of the Holy Spirit until the very end.  I will always love him, and I look forward to meeting him again when we are both complete in Christ.

Jesus can – and will – fill all the heart-shaped holes in your life…  But your gracious, heavenly Father is glorified to the fullest when you build or repair the bridges of love and trust yourself.  He sent His only Son to teach us how to love like that, and to die for the sake of showing us the way back to Him.  Every restored relationship is a gift from you to God… and to yourself.  Let it be.

I Corinthians 13:7  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.