It's been five years, Mama.
 Five years of not hearing your voice, but hearing it every day.
 “Remember whose you are and Who you belong to.”
 I'll never shake that.  Nor do I want to.
 Not your little boy anymore.
 I'm grown.

 Five years of no phone calls, but wishing I could ring your phone.
 A lot has changed, Mama.  I've changed.
 Some things you showed me have been held tenaciously.
 Other things - well, I had to lay them aside.
 It was just too heavy.
 Honestly, it wasn't something I should have ever carried.  
 We can talk about that later.

 I carry on things you loved.
 Mama, I'm praying.  I'm praying like He's at my elbow.
 It's so, so good. I had no idea what it was like to just sit with Him in the dark.
 Now I do.
 Those prayers you prayed for me, my children and even your grands.
 God heard. Oh, He heard.

 Five years of no stories about your birds.  
 Not a one comes to my yard that I'm not drawn to your love for them.
 You told me to remember “You are worth more than many sparrows”.
 I remember. And yes, not one falls without His notice.
 You should see my birds.  Just no cardinals.
 Incomplete.

 Five years of no hearing your delight over Spring.
 It's coming.  Snow is on the ground today and its bitter cold.
 But it will not always be this way.
 It's just a season.  It will pass.
 And I believe in the Resurrection.

 It's been five years, Mama.
 Growth.
 Pain.
 Longing.
 Regret.
 Brokenness.
 Newness.
 Fear.
 Faith.
 Good soil.

I'm going to finish well.
 God as my helper and healer people will say,
 “He's been with Jesus.”
 There's no place I'd rather be.

 Love,
 
 
 Your Little Boy