Without a Word_ How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything - Jill Kelly [50]
The simplest change made such a huge difference.
December 17, 2004—Hunter, I can’t believe how fast time goes by. In two months you’ll be eight years old. How can that be? Despite the usual issues, you’ve been fairly healthy lately. Your eye-band [a special band my mother made to help Hunter close his eyes. He was unable to use the muscles around his eyes, so we had to figure out a way to help him close them] and gel have helped your eyes a lot. Grammie’s so creative, isn’t she? What will she think of next?
Hunter, I know your burdens are way more than you can handle. You are incredibly brave and strong and you never give up, but I want you to know that the Lord knows and He’ll carry you through until you see Him face-to-face. Your life and breath are in His hands, and He knows when heaven needs you more than we do. Until that day, we’re here for you and we’ll do whatever it takes to provide for all of your needs. We’ll do whatever it takes to kiss and snuggle you for as long as we can. We’ll do whatever it takes through Hunter’s Hope to help all the little boys and girls suffering from disease. We’ll never give up, Hunter, never. Hang in there, little buddy. Don’t give up.
Despite overwhelming odds and the devastation caused by Krabbe disease, Hunter was full of life. He gave himself away so unselfishly, and although life in our home revolved around his constant care, we were given immeasurably more than we gave. As odd as this may sound—and believe me, it’s radical—I forgot that Hunter was dying from Krabbe disease.
I forgot.
He was living, and I believed he would keep on living.
The Last Seven Months, January–August 2005
These are the last few journal entries before Hunter met Jesus. Just as I never wanted to say good-bye to my boy, I don’t want this to be my final set of journals—my last hopes, fears, prayers, and letters to my son. I don’t want it to end. Not now, not ever.
Praise God it doesn’t have to.
What I hold now are journals filled with memories that don’t even compare to the real thing. I’ll hold my boy again someday. This I know for sure. Until I do, I’ll keep these memories close, but I won’t cling to them. Rather, I’m going to cling to the One who created my boy and made every minute with him possible. I’m going to cling to the One who provided a way for our entire family and all who knew and loved Hunter to see him again.
We’ll see him again. Of this I am certain! This is my hope. The kind of hope that has no end.
February 14, 2005—Happy birthday, Hunter—you’re eight years old. Your life is nothing short of a miracle, a gift from the hand of a good and merciful God.
Thank you for being so sweet and full of life. You make our home a place I long to be. Your eyes and face look especially bright today. I think you even got a little more handsome. How can that be? Today you are loved and cherished more than words can say and more than you will ever know.
Hunter, I pray that you will continue to shine for Jesus more and more with each passing day. I hope you will be free from worldly troubles and that you will always fix your eyes on the prize. Run the race, Hunter! The Lord loves you more than I ever could. He has prepared a wonderful place in heaven for you, and until that day, I pray that you will feel and know how dearly loved you are. Thank you for being such an incredible young man.
Hunter’s Day of Hope for Children is tonight. It should be a lot of fun, but I have to be honest with you, Hunter: sometimes I don’t want to share you with everyone else. I wish I could capture you and take you away so the two of us could be together… just you and me, without all the distractions. Wouldn’t that be cool? We could do all the fun things you love to do, except bugs and reptiles and stuff like that. Maybe someday we’ll do it, okay?
Heavenly Father, thank You for revealing Yourself to us through Hunter. Thank You for helping us learn, grow, and change