My Parable



Ian 5 1/2  Lucy 3  Easter Morning



It's been 12 years since my most profound Easter.  Spring 1999.  Ian had been waiting for a new heart for only a couple of months.  I was still coming to terms with it.  I was especially frustrated seeing young moms speeding down the freeway with children obviously not fastened in their car seats.  I wanted to pull them over and tell them I didn't want it to be their carelessness--their child to give up a heart for mine.

I don't know if it was Easter morning or a day or two before.  Keith wasn't  home.  I was in the shower--away from Ian and Lucy--thinking and crying about the idea that somebody--some child,  would have to die to save my son.    There's guilt in that somehow.  Like we'd be stealing some other family's happiness.

I got such an overwhelming feeling standing there naked.  Praying.  It was almost as if things were being explained to my mind.  What Ian was going through was a tangible, mortal example of the need for the atonement.  He needed someone to give him his life.  Just like we all needed  for someone to die so we could live--physically and spiritually.  

It was such a huge experience.  It should take up more space in words.  It should take longer to read than this.  It was so eye-opening, so moving for me--like my own personal parable.  I've thought of it every Easter since then.  I've tried to explain it to various people.  I don't think I ever explained it to Ian.  He taught me so much.  His life taught me so much.  His struggles and his triumphs taught me so much.  He wasn't perfect, but everything about him had meaning and message and substance.  If I got to meet the Savior, I'm sure that's how I would see him.  Reading and believing is great.  Knowing in your heart is great, but I look forward to seeing.