I Can Only Imagine...

We're coming on the 3rd anniversary of November 29, 2008, the day my son Christopher "shuffled off this mortal coil" and put on immortality.

I miss him the most this time of year. But, honestly, it is not Chris as he was I miss so much, but rather the "glorified" person I dreamed he would be one day in heaven...and I still wait and I still long very much to see him.

We played "I Can Only Imagine" at Chris' service. I think, except for maybe "A Mighty Fortress," no song has ever moved my faith-strings as much as this. The song's link is here: "I Can Only Imagine." 

May it touch your heart as it has mine.

UPDATE: Early in December I started a second blog called "Life With Christopher" to talk and share about disability, parenting, and spirituality. You can find it at dennyhoytlifewithchristopher.blogspot.com

Remembering Christopher

A high school friend asked about Chris, my older son, but I couldn't figure out how to be Facebook-brief about him. So I sent her a message with the following info.

Chris was born with a rare condition called lissencephaly and was not expected to live beyond infancy. He was a dear, dear boy, and we loved him so much. He experienced many simple joys and pleasures—lots of affection from mom and others, being tossed about by dad, music, walks outdoors in his wheelchair, long hot baths (again with dad), swimming pools, and as much activity as he could handle.

But his health condition was always fragile and life was a long struggle with many surgeries and hospitalizations during his 24 years on earth. When he left to be with the Lord three years ago, Chris was still much as he was as a baby, unable to sit up or roll over and totally dependent. His disabilities included profound mental retardation, blindness, cerebral palsy, severe seizures, and chronic respiratory disorder. He was fed by gastrostomy tube and required oxygen support. Chris lived with us at home for 13 years with the help of home-care nurses and attended public school until he was 21. His last 11 years were lived in two nursing homes.

As you might imagine, my feelings now are mixed; of course I miss him but now my dreams for him have come true—he is with Jesus and without pain, healed of illness and cured of disability and able to run and play and talk and sing and serve others as he was served on earth, and do whatever else they do in heaven. I can only imagine his joy now.