The Hope of Reunion

Last week, the boys and I were glued to my computer, watching CNN's live webcast of the Chilean miners' rescue after 69 days a half mile underground.  We watched all day long, and they would both come running when they heard the sirens signaling the approach to the surface of the Fenix rescue capsule.  They asked a lot of questions, and every time someone emerged from the capsule, I was unable to answer them for crying.  Each reunion made me weepy without fail.

Caleb and Joel both asked me why I was crying, and it took me awhile to be able to figure out what exactly sparked my tears.  I knew I was moved by the picture of hope realized, love expressed, and joy overflowing, but I also knew there was more to it than that.  I marveled at the amazing and miraculous salvation of these 33 men, of coming forth to new life and second chances.  I was awed by death defeated and hope victorious -- something we didn't get to experience with Samuel.  But most of all, I kept putting myself in the family members' shoes.  For 17 days, they believed their loved ones were dead; they did not think they would get to embrace them again in this life.  And then for the following 59 days they feared the worst -- that the rescue team would not get there in time.  But all their fears were abated when their husband or brother or father or son stepped out of that capsule and into their arms.  They were reunited.

It's that picture of reunion that moves me to tears when I think about it.  Someday I, too, will be reunited with my son.  I have no idea how long I will have to wait, but I know it will be my lifetime.  I have no idea what Samuel will be like -- will he be a baby still?  Will he be grown up?  Will he even have a body?  I don't know.  But I do know I will see him again someday.  And we will be together again at long last.  And for the first time, I will get to hold my healthy Samuel in my arms -- maybe as a man taller than me, maybe as an infant cradled in the nook of my arm.

Whatever the reunion looks like, it will be more beautiful than I can imagine, and I can imagine some pretty incredible things.  It will be a reunion without all the fears of this life and the brokenness of this world -- without worry about how my son will handle all that he's endured or how imperfect of a mother I've been.  It will be a reunion covered in God's perfect grace and full of His undying hope, joy, peace, and truth.

Someday, I, too, will be reunited with someone I love and had lost.  And this moves me more than I can say.  It stirs my soul to know our separation is only for a while; it will come to an end.  And then we'll spend eternity together in God's presence.  I will look back on life on earth without Samuel and see it for the blink of an eye that it really is, and I won't be filled with longing anymore.  I will simply be fulfilled.