As I see it, there are mountains, beautiful snow capped mountains. It is a sunny day and the birds are chirping out a melody. The air is crisp but not cold. The light is so bright that it fills you from the inside. There is a stream somewhere close, singing its song as it rolls through the valley, which is wide and green and covered with wild grasses and flowers. There is the smell of alpine flowers and fresh grass in summer, but also other more exotic smells, like frangipani, jasmine, and orange blossoms. They mix together perfectly.

At first he is surprised. He is not sure where he is. He looks around slowly, taking it all in, only there is too much to take in. He takes a few steps but he’s much better on his feet than he was just moments earlier. He is the same but different, himself but perfected. Not far off someone is waving, motioning for him to come. The man is somehow familiar, like someone you have only just met yet always known.

He starts running to greet the man. He picks up speed until he is in a full sprint. He runs and runs filling his lungs with the sweetest air he has ever tasted. He is overcome with a sensation never felt before – it is joy and completion, contentment and the fulfillment of every desire, knowledge perfected, the answer to every question. He runs on yet he is not tired. His legs are strong beneath him. His running only strengthens him and he races toward the man with all his being. As he gets closer, the man kneels down and opens his arms. He dives toward him in an open embrace and the man scoops him up as Henry looks into the welcoming face of Jesus.

Henry, letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t know how I am supposed to do it. You are supposed to be with me, raising a fuss and making a mess. We were supposed to have endless conversations, not unlike the ones that made me fall in love with your mother. You came from two talkers. Even though you couldn’t talk, you already had so much to say. I was supposed to teach you to ride a bike and take you to Miss Jen’s preschool. I was supposed to take a year off of work and travel the world with you, your sister, your brother, and your mom. You, your brother, and I were going to go on some epic hikes – the John Muir Trail and maybe the Camino de Santiago in Spain on the Pilgrim’s Way.

You were supposed to go college and scream at football games until you were hoarse. You were supposed to fall in love and have babies. You were supposed to be there to hold my hand as I left this body to meet God. Instead, when I held you on July 12 and kissed your button nose and oversized forehead, and ran my fingers through your curly blond hair, it was the last time I would see you on this side of Heaven. I said goodbye, not knowing it was for good.

But maybe it wasn’t for good. Maybe what Jesus said is true – that he had already gone on ahead of time to prepare a place for you. Maybe you are there right now, sitting with him beside that stream, watching a perfect world unmarred by sin and selfishness. Maybe it looks a lot like Iceland did in June when you and I were there together, only better.

I believe Lord help my unbelief. I want to obey your will God. Bend my will to yours. I can’t do this. Do it notwithstanding. I am not brave enough or strong enough or holy enough. My faith is too weak. Show me the way despite myself.

Henry, I will let you go. I will release you into the hands of someone who has always loved you more than me. I give you to the one who knew all of your days before any of them came to be. I trust Him to write something beautiful with your story and mine, even if it’s not the story I would have written. We won’t get to hike the Pilgrim’s Way, but what need is there for a pilgrimage when you have already achieved the aim of the pilgrim? Besides, I have to think that we will someday get to hike mountains that are far more beautiful than the ones in Spain or California. We won’t travel this earth as I had intended, but you are already seeing worlds beyond compare. You won’t go to college, but you now have understanding and knowledge that make my understanding childish. You won’t fall in love and get married, but you already know perfect love, that I can only imagine. You won’t cheer at a football game, but you are rejoicing in the very presence of God almighty.

All of the experiences that I wanted for you are poor substitutes for the real thing, costume jewels when God had diamonds. Now I can only see as through a poor reflection, but someday I will see things clearly in all their brilliance. Who am I to say what is best?

Henry, I love you and I always will. As long as I walk this Earth, a part of my heart will be missing. But God knows best. Until I understand, I will have to trust that you are in good hands beside that beautiful stream, bathed in the light of righteous God, in that beautiful valley clothed in a shade of green that I have not yet seen. Until I can see it for myself, I will choose joy today, knowing that for now, I can only see the fringes of the picture.