Not long after our younger son graduated from university in the early '90s, he cut off all contact with us. After many attempts to contact him, I humbly decided to respect his decision to be left alone. I prayed diligently to know that our ever-present Father-Mother God would always be where he was, to care for him infinitely more than any human dad ever could. A couple of years later, my wife and I learned that he'd moved to the city where we lived. We renewed our attempts to reestablish contact, but he kept his distance. Nevertheless, I continued to include him in my prayers, knowing that he couldn't be cut off from God.
Amid my clamoring questions,
I clung to the spiritual truth that my son was safe in God,
eternal Life, and that nothing could ever alter this fact.
Then one morning the local police informed us that our son had died in another country. I was overwhelmed by grief and despair. But even amid my clamoring questions of how, when, and why, I clung to the spiritual truth that my son was safe in God, eternal Life, and that nothing could ever alter this fact.
