Just beneath my eyes, there lies a river of un-shed tears.
I am afraid to let them fall, for fear they will never cease.
A few have graced my cheeks.
But only a few.
The rest have been dammed.
But, perhaps the dam should be broken.
How do you grieve for someone you have never met?
Why would you mourn the loss of a life, you've never known?
I don't understand it.
But, then again, maybe I do.
It is because my eyes are being opened.
Four days ago, I cradled a young man's head in my hands.
I stood outside the passenger side door of a mangled truck,
my arms stretched through a shattered window,
and with my hands, I held his head as steady as I could.
His body was pinned between a crumpled dash and the front passenger seat where he sat.
I heard the faint moans that escaped his lips.
I whispered in his ear that help was on the way.
I listened as a loved one in the back seat of their truck pleaded,
"Don't die, Jordan....."
I leaned in close and told him he was going to be ok.
I heard the 10 month old baby screaming in her car seat.
I stood as still as I could while his head jerked in my grasp.
I could hear the driver groaning on the ground through the open door on the other side of the vehicle.
And still, my focus was only, on this young man.
I held him as gently as I could while he fought to live.
I held him with my hands.
I held him with my heart.
And I held him in my prayers.
I prayed like I have never prayed before.
I pleaded with the Lord.
I begged the Giver Of Life, to breathe life into Jordan.
I cried out to God for more time.
I prayed, and I held him while off-duty Fire-fighters,
reaching through the driver's side door, struggled to find a pulse.
All around, there was chaos.
People looking for ways to help.
My husband on his cell with 911.
Time stood still.
And sped faster than I could have imagined.
And all the while, my prayers covered Jordan.
And then I was moved aside.
Fire-fighters and paramedics,
moved in with the tools to cut Jordan from the truck.
Four of them pulled him out and laid him on the ground.
They cut his T-shirt open.
They felt his abdomen.
They checked his body for broken bones.
They searched for a pulse.
And still I prayed.
I prayed with every fiber of my being.
I remember a young man in a white tank top came and stood beside me.
With great concern, he looked at me and asked me if I was ok.
"Yes." I told him. "I'm just praying."
I'll never forget how he looked at me then.
He put his arm around me and squeezed me tight.
He never said another word.
He didn't have to.
There was no room for words anyway.
And then a Fire-man came and asked people,
he asked me, to return to our vehicles.
I just stood there looking at him.
How could I leave Jordan?
"This young man," I said. "Is he alive?"
"He may, or may not be."
He may, or may not be.
I couldn't move.
And then Jason came and pulled me away.
For two days, Jordan was never far from my thoughts and my prayers.
I had great hope that he was alive.
And then came the news that he was not.
He was declared dead at the scene.
He fought for his life while I held him.
He fought for his life while I sought the Lord for him.
But he never made it.
I feel like a failure.
I feel like a fraud.
My prayers did not make a difference.
My prayers meant nothing.
And I grieve for the life of a man I never knew.
But, I've been thinking......
What if my prayers did make a difference?
What if they did mean something?
This is what I understand.
You see, although I didn't know it at the time,
Jordan was dying while I held him.
But, Jordan did not die alone.
I stood beside him.
I stood with him.
And, I stood in the Gap for him.
In those few moments between life and death,
my prayers for Jordan were heard by the ears of my God.
He heard me ask for more time for Jordan,
so that he could have the chance to know and love the God of the universe.
In those precious few moments, while I prayed, and held Jordan in my hands,
we, together, were being held in love, by the hands of my Father.
No, Jordan did not die alone.
And he did not die unloved.
Because while I stood in the Gap for Jordan,
while I prayed for him,
I loved him.
The Lord poured out His extravagant love for Jordan, through me.
In Jordan's last moments on this earth, he was held in The Father's arms of love.
Listen, my friends. My people. My beloveds.
Death is not the end.
When our bodies cease to live,
our spirits will live on.
My prayer for Jordan, like my prayer for you,
is that your spirit will live on with Jesus.
But, for that to happen, you must choose Him.
Being a good person is not enough.
There is only One Way.
It is Jesus.