Rivers of Joy, Streams of Tears

Whitewater Rafting on the American River August 2018

It was in August four years ago that he coaxed and cajoled until I agreed to go with him.

I had once been hurled against a rock by a smaller calmer river and was scared.

He promised he wouldn’t let me fall from his raft, a promise he kept.

Strong, commanding, professional; he knew what he was doing and didn’t take chances.

He proved himself so capable that I stopped worrying about his river runs.

What mom could begrudge an adventure that restores the smile to her son’s eyes?

It was a river I’ve never seen, a river in Guatemala near Lanquin that swept him away.

Our grandson will raft another river without him this year.

I remain on dry land crying tiny streams of tears.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Sheryl Dalzell Hobé says:

    The only thing that keeps coming to my heart and mind is,
    “2 Corinthians 5:8 KJV — We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.”
    I trust Evan is present with our Saviour. I think the same when my heart turns to my nephew Jonathon who died in my backyard from an overdose of heroin. The mourning never seems to completely depart, however the rejoicing is so much greater! My heart hurts for you in your loss and I keep you in my talks with our Lord. Much love and hugs in Christ Jesus.


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