Jonathan 8/1/72-2/3/77 This page is dedicated to a little boy who I never knew. Jon was my husband's "big" brother. He died in a tragic house fire when he was 4 years old. My husband was, at the time, only 2 years old. Despite the fact that Jon and I never met, I feel a deep connection to him. He is the namesake of our oldest son, and he is the Guardian angel that I believe God has given to watch over our children. If nothing else, Jon's death has taught me never to take my children for granted, never to forget what a blessing that they really are, and never to allow my heart to become complacent in the knowledge that "there's always tomorrow." The truth is that we don't know if there is a tomorrow. Please, if you get nothing else from my site, take away an understanding that you only have your children for a short time. Cherish them as gifts from God. Hug them and kiss them often, and let them know that you love them, unconditionally and forever. Thank you God, for the blessings found in the life of a little boy that I never knew. Submitted by Carol, Jonathan's Mom: I'll lend you for a little while, a child of mine, He said For you to love while he loves and mourn when he is dead. It may be six or seven years, or twenty two or three But will you till I call him back, take care of him for me? I've looked the wide world over in my search for teachers true And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes I have selected you. Now will you give him all your love- not the labor vain Nor hate Me when I come to call to take him back again? I fancied that I heard them say, Dear Lord, thy will be done! For all the joy this child shall bring the risk of grief we'll run And should the angels come to call for him much sooner than we planned, We'll brave the bitter grief that comes, and try to understand. Author Unknown *IF TEARS COULD BUILD A STAIRWAY* Author Unknown IF TEARS COULD BUILD A STAIRWAY AND MEMORIES WERE A LANE I COULD WALK RIGHT UP TO HEAVEN AND BRING YOU HOME AGAIN NO FAREWELL WORDS WERE SPOKEN NO TIME TO SAY GOOD-BYE YOU WERE GONE BEFORE I KNEW IT AND ONLY GOD KNOWS WHY MY HEART'S STILL ACTIVE IN SADNESS AND SECRET TEARS STILL FLOW WHAT IT MEANT TO LOSE YOU NO ONE CAN EVER KNOW BUT NOW I KNOW YOU WANT US TO MOURN FOR YOU NO MORE TO REMEMBER ALL THE HAPPY TIMES LIFE STILL HAS MUCH IN STORE SINCE YOU'LL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN I PLEDGE TO YOU TODAY A HALLOWED PLACE WITHIN MY HEART IS WHERE YOU'LL ALWAYS STAY. MY TEARS I read in God's dear Book, He has a bottle, Wherein, as pass the slowly rolling years, He places, one by one, the crystal pearls, Those drops which He Himself doth call my "tears." I thank Him for this means to ease my sorrow, The flood, the fount which oft doth soothe my grief; The soft, unbitter rain, which falls so gently, And, falling, brings my bosom such relief. I thank Him that His heart devised this fountain; And that its healing balm He understands. That, too, the sacred thing He calls His "bottle" Is not with angels, but is in HIS hands. And so, when bursts the flood gates of my bosom, When, overwhelmed, it will not be restrained, God's bottle is my comfort, and my solace. My tears are there; those tears my heart hath rained. Author unknown From an old newspaper clipping "Put thou my tears into thy bottle; are they not in thy book?" - Psalms 56:8 "I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears." - II Kings 20:5 "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." - Revelation 7:17 ~MY FIRST CHRISTMAS IN HEAVEN~ I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below With tiny lights, like Heaven's stars, reflecting on the snow. The sight is so spectacular, please wipe away the tear For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. I hear the many Christmas songs that people hold so dear but the sounds of music can't compare with the Christmas choir up here. I have no words to tell you, the joy their voices bring, For it is beyond description, to hear the angels sing. I know how much you miss me, I see the pain inside your heart. But I am not so far away, We really aren't apart. So be happy for me, dear ones, You know I hold you dear. And be glad I'm spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. I sent you each a special gift, from my heavenly home above. I sent you each a memory of my undying love. After all, love is a gift more precious than pure gold. It was always most important in the stories Jesus told. Please love and keep each other, as my father said to do. For I can't count the blessing or love he has for each of you. So have a Merry Christmas and wipe away that tear. Remember, I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. *footnote: This poem was written by a 13 year old boy who has battled a brain tumor for four years. He died on December 14, 1997 and gave this poem to his mother.