Inside a Jesus-Shaped Heart

He is afraid of forgetting.  Forgetting the mother he loves, his mother country and his mother tongue.

How can he love two people at once?  Two places at once?  It seems impossible to his seven (more probably eight year old) mind.

His fight is strong.  The protector, his name’s sake, comes out in force.  His eyes grow dark and his tongue spits venom.  Words aimed to wound land like arrows in the night.

The fight is strong, but love is stronger.

Love’s vice grip leans in a little tighter.  A little fiercer.  A righteous love that will never give up. Never give in.

A raging sea of emotion thrashes in his heart.

Every time a memory begins to fade his body reacts.  Holding tight to a loyal love means pushing away another.  The two seem mutually exclusive.

Or are they?

Minutes tick away, leading into more than an hour.  And then, just as quickly as it starts and rapidly escalates, the fight begins to fade.

Ever so slightly bodies relax.  Eyes closed tight gradually flicker open.  The semblance of a smile begins to form on the sides of his mouth.  My hands relax.  And so do his.

“Honey, are you afraid you can’t love two mommies at once?”

Hesitantly, “Yes.”

And so it goes.  We gingerly enter into a sacred dance.  A routine relegated only for the most intimate of people.  A place where the dark night of the soul and life’s truest freedom dare to co-exist.

I explain to him that not only can he love two mommies at once – the two of us actually intertwine to form one heart.  My heart bends into hers and we are forever connected in a shape symbolizing true love to all who dare to dream of such things.

Not only do the two of us form the core, One greater forms the shell.

Inside a Jesus-shaped heart, we can fit the whole world.  A Jesus-shaped heart stretches into supernatural infinity and beyond. Because He died, offering His heart, splayed for the taking, we can take up residence.

The confines of a finite world are broken.   The boundaries of time and space begin to shatter.

A Jesus-shaped heart fits all of us.  The ones we are beginning to remember and the ones we are starting to forget.

Rest in that my son.  Rest in your Jesus-shaped heart.  Lean into our Jesus-shaped love.

She and I are one.

Her blood courses through your veins while my hands caress your face.

Your eyes reflect her voracious love while mine reflect it right back.

May you never forget.

May I always remember.

Inside our Jesus-shaped space.


  1. Dorazio Lana says:

    Really? Oh my gosh, you made me cry. My boy came into a room that only I was in today, sat down, and interacted with me while I put together a shoe tree for their room. My heart almost exploded that he wanted to talk to me about being nervous about going to school because he would be alone. He never lets me in his world, and today I got something, and it gave me such hope. I loved your post. Thanks for writing it!


  2. Kara says:

    I dare anyone to read this without crying! Thank you for expressing your beautiful heart. And thank you for embracing God’s complex and grief-sharing plan.


  3. Lisa freyschlag says:

    Speechless. This is so profound. I feel blessed to stumble upon your blog after reading your lovely Christmas card. Seems this could all become a marvelous book one day.
    Love and miss you, Lisa F.


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