The Immeasurable Blessings of One Little Boy

And here in dust and dirt, O here
The lilies of His love appear.
~ George Herbert.

This is one of those entries that I've been composing in my heart for a very long time, yet I struggle in writing out the words.  April 21st is forever marked in my mind as Milo's day for he arrived on this date, bringing much joy and love to his family.  It is impossible to translate the motions of the heart; the grief of loss and the joy in the promise of Heaven - these are the depths and heights of the story; the story of Milo.

For me, the story of Milo is still being written today.  Memories and messages grow up from the words of his life like lilies.  Like what Philip Yancey describes in his book What's So Amazing About Grace?, the tiniest seed in the garden hints at a movement - the movement of the Kingdom of Heaven - that changes things inside out.

Although I have included at the end of this entry a somewhat condensed version of what I had written this past summer, there is so much left to say about this little boy's life that is so incredibly meaningful.  The gift of Milo has had an undeniable, immeasurable impact on my life - and on the lives of so many.

Every time I think of lilies - I think of him in his garden with his mother.  Every time I see mylar balloons bobbing up and down in Safeway, I think of how much he loved them.  Every time I think of the Potato Soup evening in the middle of winter where the six boys and two moms shared a blessed meal, these memories still touch my heart today. And every time I think of a little boy named Milo, my heart simulatenously breaks and fills for there is so much pain and yet so much hope in the life to come.

This song says so much... and when I hear it, I think of Milo's dad singing it over him:

I Saw the Light

I wandered so aimless life filled with sin
I wouldn’t let my dear saviour in
Then Jesus came like a stranger in the night
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I saw the light, I saw the light
No more darkness no more night
Now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

Just like a blind man I wandered along
Worries and fears I claimed for my own
Then like the blind man that God gave back his sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I saw the light, I saw the light
No more darkness no more night
Now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I was a fool to wander and stray
Straight is the gate and narrow the way
Now I have traded the wrong for the right
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I saw the light, I saw the light
No more darkness no more night
Now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

Celebrating Milo

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Every good and perfect gift is from above, 

coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights. 

~ James 1:17

I have been so blessed.  I have had the privilege of knowing and loving a little boy named Milo.  Even the sound of his name draws out memories of smiles and charming little eyes and his life is imprinted on my aching heart.

I celebrate Milo, a gift from God, a beautiful soul. 

All the same, it hasn't been that long since I received the call, but it feels as though an eternity has passed.  The loss of Milo Barley has led me to a place of such intense grief, it is far too challenging to express it.

So, instead of attempting to articulate the depth of emotions or comprehend things that can't be rationalized, I am going to celebrate Milo.  Ultimately, that is the beauty of who he was: he was a celebration of life and the way he has touched so many, and continues to change so many lives, is a testament.  

I'm not very good at compartmentalizing.  This journey has been really hard because of that.  All in all, and most importantly, I am praising God.  Secondary only to that is a gratefulness for the gift of Milo.  All else falls into the categories of what is and what might have been... I accept and acknowledge those but then I have to return to my first two focus points. 

The Barley and the Pickersgill families have been such an amazing example of faithfulness.  This post is terribly inadequate.  And yet, I have been writing this for over a week and I now know that it may be lengthy, but I'd like to tell you about Milo. There is so much to say even though we had only fourteen months with this little man.  I am recording as much as I can in little journal books and papers around my house; these stories are so important for Rose, Andrew, Jude and their family.  I ache.  I cry without warning for lengthy periods.  I mourn.  I press forward, striving to search for ways to comfort.  I smile in remembrance.   I want to chronicle a little life that was nurtured by such love.

March 2010

Milo's birth story is truly amazing. I was so excited to hear that he was born.  I loved meeting him at his baby shower a few weeks later and seeing his tiny, smiling face.  He was one of those amazing babies that loved to be held and loved to smile. 

There's so much to say about Milo.  Some of my favourite memories of the twins' first year are of Rose and I nursing side-by-side or holding each other's babies.  Although they are too young to make the connection themselves, in my mind, Milo was the twins' best friend. He seemed quite at home in the middle of their very physical affection (I think that he had been acclimatized by big brother's love).  I loved how Jude renamed him "Mr. Milo".  I loved how expressive his little face could get.  I loved also how he'd be so studious and observant.  He was a wonder - curious and adventurous (he mastered stairs at the end of December) and he had this way of charming everyone (there was never a Sunday that I did not see him happily carried in another person's arms) - including me.  Despite the fact that my hands seemed continually full with boys, I'd be so excited to get a chance to pick him up on any given Sunday morning in the nursery and swing him into my arms.  He'd promptly plunk a thumb into that tiny little mouth and look straight into my eyes.  What a gift. 

The truth of the matter is that a little boy has had a huge impact on so many lives.  His story continues on in so many ways.

March 2011

In the days that have followed, I have alternated from being still with God to throwing myself wholeheartedly into gardening.  There is something beautiful about working out one's emotions through the soil and seeing God's hand in creation.  With all of the parallels that can be drawn, I find my grief being transformed in the garden.  As the rain pours down today I can't help but think of how much it is helping the soil; I can't help but think about healing.

I hope you ask me about Milo sometime.  I'd love to tell you all about his life and what God has been doing as the days go on.  It will be a chronicle about remembrance and it will be stories about celebration.

It will be about a blessing. 

I am still confident of this:

I will see the goodness of the Lord

In the land of the living.

Wait for the Lord;

be strong and take heart

and wait for the Lord.

~ Psalm 27