Instead of fighting this sadness, I've decided to snuggle under my warm blanket of melancholy. Not for long, mind you, maybe not even the whole day. But I need to nestle down, reminisce and have a good cry.
I've often wondered if my dad is aware of my journey here. I've read commentaries and blogs arguing for and against the belief that those in heaven can see us on earth. Many believe they can offer prayers on our behalf. And while that thought is comforting to me, others counter that knowing our struggles would lessen the perfection of heaven. So it's simply not possible. There seems to be scripture supporting both sides.
I do know that I've been with many people as they've taken their last breath, and they often reach and call out for a loved one who has passed. If you were there, I don't think you would doubt that loved ones often come back to usher the dying into heaven. Is it possible that they come back more than we think?
I prefer to think that God, being his omniscient, glorious self, has a special little window in heaven for each of his children. At certain times, the curtain is pulled back, and they can look down and get a glimpse into their family's lives. And maybe there are times when the window is slung wide open, and they can actually be present with us. A birth. A baptism. A wedding. A passing. A welcoming home.
And maybe, just maybe, my dad is looking out his window today. A smile tugs at his lips as his dimple deepens. He whispers a promise. "Not long. It's not long until we will all be enjoying this incredible perfection of heaven together." His face brightens. "Oh, the things I have to show you. The places we will go. The joy we have to share as we spend eternity together. Friends. Family. And most importantly, the One who made it all possible. Our Father. Our Savior. Our Hope."
But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him”—
1 Corinthians 2:9
