A lesson in love

I'm tired of starting these posts, the ones where I have to find the words to explain that another child has died. I don't want to tell of another story of hope that ends in tragedy. I don't want to try and describe that again my heart is broken, shattered into tiny pieces that I am trying to hold gently together so I can continue working here. I don't want to think about the parents of this child, how I could just cry for hours just for the pain of their loss.
I don't want to have to say that I am writing this all about Luc.

We left Benin last year as his cancer started to rear its ugly head again. The swelling was coming back, making his eyelids puffy at first. We left him in the hands of a doctor who is one of the best I have ever met, a true gift from God. I have been in touch since leaving, hearing updates about how Luc and Rachelle were doing. While away last week I got the email that I hated to read about Luc's cancer which they suspected had spread to his brain. The pain of that thought alone makes me ill.
There was talk of coming to Togo, I even talked to the oncologist we are working with here about treating Luc as Benin had run out of options. I was so afraid to be the one to make the call. Potential false hope verses the pain of accepting there is nothing else that can be done for a 4 year old is not a decision anyone should have to face. I thought I would let the doctors talk, and made contact with the one in Benin.He responded by telling me he thought Luc and his family was already on their way to Togo, on their way to the ship in order to seek help.
My mind raced as I tried again and again to contact them as I have been trying to do since getting to Togo. I prayed for the phone to work.The next calls went through.
The translator reached Luc's dad.Where are you?
Benin?, Good, and Luc and his mother as well?
The look on the translators face was all too familiar. Again, my heart fell.
"I'm sorry, Luc died Monday"
The rest of the conversation was the usual. Tell them I am so sorry, tell them I am praying for them. etc, etc, etc... It feels so fake when you have to say it over the phone through a translator. But then the dad said something that made me wince.
"He wants to come see you, here in Togo"
We arranged for the whole family to come for dinner and church in 2 weeks. I told them to take a taxi, we would pay for the ride.This grieving family, who probably just finished burying their son, wants to come see me. I don't think I will ever be able to put the emotion that evokes into words.
In talking about all of this to people, I think I figured out why certain kids and their deaths affect me more than others. Its amazing, each one has a different significance all its own. I narrowed it down to the lessons learned through each child. The way God used them each individually to speak into my heart.
Luc's lesson was the sweetest, which also makes his death one of the hardest. He taught me to love with abandon, when I saw his cancer come back I was filled with fear.
Not him, God. Please, not him. Spare him. I love him too much.

The day of that lesson, we had several hours to kill waiting for one of the doctors. All morning we played. Open the car door, close it. Figure out the keys, lock and unlock. Open the window, play peek-a-boo, close the window.
I had reservations the whole morning. It would hurt too much when I had to leave, I wanted to retreat, not face the inevitable pain of possibly loving him even and ounce more than I already did. Maybe if I didn't have any more fond memories it would be easier.
Closing off ones heart is a slippery slope, and I think this was the closest I had ever come to it.

When we left the appointment, Luc grabbed my hand joyfully and skipped beside me. He snatched the blooming flowers off their buds and threw them in the air like confetti. We jumped over the cracks in the sidewalk, and he beamed at me with his sly smile.
Right then, in His perfect timing, God spoke to me."Be like Luc. Live in this moment"
I didn't think it was possible to love someone anymore than I did Luc right then. My heart was so full. To love like that means you can't fear the consequences, you love as if you will never lose, like there isn't a threat of heartache. It is divine love with a source that is not of this world. Only God can enable us to love like that, otherwise how could you reasonably pour everything you have into a child that may likely die.
My last visit with Luc...

Luc's and his family lived an hour from the hospital. His dad was one of the sweetest men I have met here. He came to every appointment, followed us in the car with his bike each time we drove to the hospital, and visited Luc and his mama during their stays every evening. In the car, Luc always turned around multiple times to check if his 'papa' was behind us. He would wave frantically, and always find a wave and a smile in return from his dad. He never took his eyes off that little boy.

Luc and his mama...Every time, without fail, when I saw Luc, he would run at me with all of his might. He didn't hesitate or slow down when he got near to me. He wasn't afraid of hitting too hard. He ran, full out, with everything in him.
One evening when I had called to check on him, he asked to speak directly to me. All I understood was
"allo, Suzanne!"
When I inquired the following day about what he said, his mom laughed and retold the story of Luc telling me it was a good idea to bring him chocolate the next day. I brought him m&m's every day I saw him after that.
I loved Luc. My heart does ache, the pain comes like a stab in the side at times. A memory of him will flash through my mind and nothing will stop the tears from coming. My comfort in this is knowing where he is, playfully laughing in a place where this is no pain, no fear, and where he is loved by the one who created love. The one who is love, knows nothing but love.
God used that little boy to speak to me, knowing I would never listen any other way. I am thankful for his life and the privilege it was to be a part of it in the short time I knew him.

Because of Luc, I am not afraid to love, regardless of the circumstance.