Without a Word_ How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything - Jill Kelly [23]
Of all the things that Mark said, there’s one thing I will never forget for as long as I live: “Jill, as much as you love your children—and I know you do—you will never know what real love is until you know the love of God through His Son, Jesus.”
Initially I was offended and couldn’t imagine a love greater than a mother’s love for her children—than my love for Erin and Hunter. It was impossible for me to grasp at the time. Still, I was intrigued. How could I come to know this greater love?
Questions like this flooded my mind during Uncle Mark’s visits. However, it wasn’t so much what Mark said as what I saw and how I felt when I was with him. His life overflowed with joy, and his smile was contagious. In the midst of the sorrow swallowing our family, my uncle was like a breath of fresh air. His love for Jesus was intoxicating, radical, and intimidating all at the same time. I wanted what he had and continued to pursue it with abandon.
Eventually, my search for God took a definitive turn.
When Hunter was a baby, the winter months in Western New York were horrible for him because of RSV and other nasty viruses to which he was easily susceptible. So we would pack up our entire family and head to South Florida for most of the season. We became snowbirds at an early age and enjoyed every minute of it. My uncle Jim and aunt Patsy lived in Fort Myers, Florida, and did all the house-rental legwork for us so that all we had to do was walk through and decide which house to rent.
Like my uncle Mark, Jim and Patsy were also Christians. Upon returning to their home one afternoon after house hunting, I started sobbing. I think the weight of everything was wearing me down and I just had to let go. Erin was with me at the time, and in her sweet, four-year-old innocence she tried her best to console me. “What’s wrong, Mommy? Everything’s going to be okay, right, Mommy?”
As she put her arms around me and hugged me, tears continued to flow. I have to be strong. Pull yourself together, Jill. You need to be strong for Erin. The sound of my aunt and uncle approaching roused me to compose myself. It was obvious that I’d been crying, though, and so they probed in their caring way: “Jill, what’s wrong?” Without hesitation I poured out everything I had kept bottled up for so long. The thoughts came tumbling out: “I don’t want Hunter to die. Why does he have to suffer so much? Why won’t God heal him? I don’t understand all this God stuff. If Hunter’s going to heaven, I want to go, too. I want to be there.” As I continued to ramble on desperately, Erin stood next to me and held my hand. I should have sheltered her from my outcry, but I didn’t.
I was desperate. I wanted hope and heaven so badly I would’ve carried around a five-foot crucifix if I had to. I was tired of running; the anguish of searching had wiped me out. I was down for the count, and my aunt and uncle knew it, so when I finally stopped to breathe, Jim and Patsy motioned for me to come into the living room. “Let’s just pray right now. Jill, God knows what you need,” they said. “You need Him. You need Jesus.”
I dropped to my knees, and as we knelt down to pray, I looked at Erin. She was crying. The look on her face broke my heart.
Knowing that I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to pray, Uncle Jim told me to repeat after him, and so I did. While I don’t remember my exact words, I knew what I felt was real, and I’ll never forget it.
Now, as I vividly recall those moments on my knees crying out to God, I realize with even greater conviction what I couldn’t possibly have understood then. It wasn’t about how or what I prayed—as if spewing “magical,” spiritual-sounding words could make any difference at all. It wasn’t about my desperation or need for hope. It wasn’t even about acknowledging