We are with most of our kids and grandkids at some cabins in North Georgia. The grandkids only see their aunt and uncles once or twice per year.
It’s been three years since they saw Andrew. Elijah was barely four. (Colin was sixteen months and the others weren’t born yet. I wouldn’t expect them to remember.)
Last night he was trying to get one of his uncle’s attention. He called out, “Andrew! Hey Andrew!” His uncle said, “I’m Adam. What ya need, buddy?”
My heart skipped a beat. It was sweet to know the little guy remembers he had an Uncle Andrew.
When they came in for the funeral, Elijah walked over to where I was sitting. He knelt down by the coffee table with his elbows on the table and put his little four-year-old chin in his hands. He looked at me and said, “Andrew’s dead. He’s in heaven. We don’t have to be afraid.”
When I told him he was correct, he jumped up and ran to the toy area to play.
Oh! To have faith like a child!