The clear single notes of the piano had me whispering the words to, " Silent Night." The candles on the altar table represented Jesus and our missing boys. A blue candle for each of the birthdays the boys celebrated. Five candles for Tanner, seven candles for Alexander and nine candles for their big brother, Andrew. In the darkened sanctuary the soft glow of the candles was a gentle yet gradually overpowering image of the love held in the hearts of every parent gathered to pray.
I read a Psalm that spoke of stillness and waiting on God. Words of hope that we know and acknowledge that He is the giver of peace and comfort. So many questions fill my mind and trouble my spirit. It has been almost four days, how could the boys survive the elements if they are out in the cold? Why would any parent leave their children with a person who is almost unknown? And unthinkable is the question of suicide; leave your boys with a stranger because you don't want them to witness you hang yourself. I had to get the questions and haunting thoughts out of my mind.
As I led the gathering in prayer it was a time of acknowledging the plan of God. His plan, to bring us together as family, the wonder of love and children. In times of pain and loss how we come together as community. We unite together to bring encouragement, love, support and that as community the bond goes deeper than words. And we were united in one purpose; to pray, find a sense of comfort, and demonstrate to the family support.
One by one every person came to the altar table and held their candle into the life-candle of one of our boys. The process took almost twenty minutes and I watched as members of the media and law enforcement held a candle of hope. At the conclusion of the service silence kept us in our seats and looking at the altar. It was as if leaving the service was leaving Tanner, Alexander and Andrew.
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