What if They’re not Missing Anything?


Photo Jyrki Kymäläinen via Creative Commons

Wow, look at that!

Whenever we witness something amazing, the first thing we want to do is share it.

Love wants to share

Maybe you’ve seen a sunset that takes your breath away. Immediately you think of someone you want to share it with.

Tuck it in your pocket. Save it for when you get to heaven.

And maybe when slipping our memories out to share we’ll be surprised to hear,

“You should have seen it from here!”

My sister Peggy and I used to talk on the phone for hours.

We never ran out of things to say no matter how often we talked. Never.
And when she died, I began thinking about her in a different way. Long distance.

We think they’re missing out

As I traveled through life sister-less I thought about all the things she didn’t know about. She never met my daughter, my grandsons, Jude and Charlie, and now my little granddaughter, Ruthie.

And when I’ve thought about how she didn’t share my life, it stung.

But what if she hasn’t missed them. She saw them all, we just didn’t see them together.

Like when I learned how to drive in my 30‘s or when I graduated college in my 40‘s.

Maybe at our reunions with loved ones, as we settle in to share.

Maybe we won’t be the only ones talking.

A different perspective

I’ve thought my sister missed out on seeing my precious daughter.

But what if God gave her a sneak peek before he handed Jessica to me?

It’s something to think about.

I believe we’ll have unfathomable joy at our reunions. Whenever Jesus rose someone from the dead people rejoiced.

We know those in heaven are in a better place. One day we’ll be joining them.

God understands

God knows our hearts broke when our loved ones died. He gathered up our tears, slipping them in a special bottle he keeps with him.

But one day, the time we spent missing them will be like a vapor, a mist. Like nothing.

So when I experience life after a loved one dies, I’ll stick a post-it note on it with the words,

“For Later.”

We’re a culture who doesn’t like to wait. From microwave popcorn, to drive-throughs, our attitudes scream, “I want it now.”

But we have to wait for some things.

It builds our anticipation, our character.

Even God waits

God had to wait for 33 years after he placed His Son in a manger. God waits for us to turn to Him.

This Christmas I’ll once again be thinking of lost loved ones. But maybe I can change how I think about them.

We’ll spend Christmas pondering the birth of a baby king. Those in heaven will hear the angels rejoicing, up close and personal.

We have no idea what is in store for us.

We’ll get there, greeted by our loved ones. And after unbelievable hugs they’ll say,

“I’m so glad to hold you again, but I never stopped watching you.”

And maybe we’ll smile, realizing it’s true.

We’re seeing the same stars those in heaven see. They’re just a little closer to them.

For now.

Note: This post was inspired by a post by my friend, Pamela Hodges
entitled, My father’s last Christmas.

Imagine That (FmF)


Imagine what it will be like when we open our eyes and see clearly for the very first time.

When all around are those we love who went before us. There at the table people are laughing and smiling bigger than ever.

And as you stand there with your mouth gaped open you see him. He’s much better than anything you could imagine.

His eyes are deep and when you look into them you get lost because of their depth.

You are drawn to him with a pull like no other you’ve ever known.

And all you can do is stare. Stare at the hands outstretched to you. You see the holes he left there.

And you know he knows you. Just like the times he sat with you when everyone else left.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you feel a warmth that radiates your whole being.

And he speaks your name. And then you cry.

Because you’ve heard that voice before. It was the voice that tried to comfort you when you lost one loved one after another. The same voice that told you,

“It’s going to be okay.”

And you know what? He was right. You’re with him now. Forever.

Imagine that.

Linking up with Lisa Jo Baker at Five minute Friday.