I told them about the kind of kid he was. I shared a much sanitized version of his kidnapping and death. I stressed the insanely amazing ways his family and friends are fighting to keep Jacob's Hope alive in this world. We listened to the song "Listen" by Rod Grammar and "Jacob's Hope" by Douglas Wood. I was transported back to vigils and Hands across America and tears. My toddler sat in my lap and wiped the tears from my cheeks as we talked about the deep hurts of the world and the always redeeming hope and love. My 12-year-old recognized that he's the same age I was when Jacob was kidnapped and horrendously killed.
I sat and talked with my kids around the kitchen table as we ate fresh corn on the cob, "those sandwiches," veggies and hummus. I thought of all that has been denied to Jacob these nearly 27 years. I thought of the woman who never got to be his first love and the kids he never got to tuck in at night. I thought of the graduation his parents didn't get to celebrate and the slamming doors of teenagerhood that they would have given anything to experience.
I know life isn't fair. We all know life isn't fair. But there are some reminders of that cruel truth that knock the wind right out of my sails and I wonder how I can ever re-right the boat. The details of Jacob's death are too much. Every time I think of Jacob asking to go home, saying he was cold, asking what he did wrong, I am again blindsided by the fact that a human being could hear a small, tender, shaking voice ask those simple, innocent questions, and not feel a tiny crack in his hard armor to let just enough light in to let Jacob go. That he could hear Jacob's family and friends beg for answers and ignore their cries all of these years. It is beyond my sickest imaginings.
I want to shut down. I want to hide and cry and ignore the universe. But, once again, I have to answer the question of how one could possibly survive this pain with this answer: With faith, courage, hope, and a vision of a better, safer world for our kids. When those four things feel as impossible as they do right now, when the world feels so deeply dark and depraved, we need them all the more. I have to look to Jacob's family and friends and the strength they have shown. I have to call on my faith in God, who promises that we are never alone. Not Jacob or his family or you or me. I have to pray that Jacob felt that on October 22, 1989.
Many sports teams in Minnesota, from youth on up to professional teams, are honoring Jacob by wearing patches with #11 on their jerseys. Jacob's family loves the idea and came up with this list of 11 traits we can all commit to living.
I'll ask you again to join in being Jacob's Hope. It's easy today, when Jacob's name is all over the news and the hurt is fresh and all-encompassing. Let's keep it up next week and next month and next year, when our horror isn't so fresh and the news cycle has moved on about 592 times, but Jacob's family is still aching and raw. Commit to something today and write it down. Send a donation to the Jacob Wetterling Resource Center. Teach Sunday School. Help feed hungry kids. Foster an at-risk child. Do something. Write it down, type it into your phone, set a timer, and make it happen. Be Jacob's Hope in your corner of the world and pray it ripples far and wide and reaches someone who needs your voice or your money or your caring.
Let our lights be brighter. Let us be Jacob's Hope together.