HeavenFound in: Mama
Not a day goes by that I cease to wonder what my Mom is experiencing that very moment in heaven. I see a sunset, spilling colors across the sky, and I wonder if she’s in some way looking down from up above, smiling on us.
I remember growing up, she talked about heaven a lot. She read these stories about people dying and coming back to life, and their stories of briefly being caught up into heaven. However true those stories are I do not know, but the pictures they painted lighted her imagination.
When her parents passed on, she talked about them often, as well as her brother, wondering what they were doing up there and who they’d seen. She suspected they were making music and planting flowers.
And now I do the same thing.
Never have I been more elated at the thought of being in glory than I am now that such a big piece of my heart is waiting for me on the other side. I know I will see her again. I know I will squeeze her oh-so-tight. As much as I miss her dreadfully, it brings me such comfort to think of her with Jesus, with no more disease wearing down her body. Never will she receive another bad report or face another struggle. Ever. There is such relief in that.
Days before she moved to heaven, she and I held each other and cried as she grieved the reality that she wouldn’t get to be there when the time comes to meet our children, and then with the sweetest hope, said, “Maybe I can help God pick them out from heaven: blue eyes and dimples and mischievous. Maybe He’ll let me be a part in some way.”
And so I wonder.
I wonder what she sees here, if she plays a role even still. I wonder what she knows about our lives. I want so bad to tell her that her baby boy gets to play at the Grand Ole Opry next week. But then I think, “maybe she’ll get to see that.”
Until we meet again, wonder will I continue to do. And every time I see a hummingbird or a sunset, or dig my toes into the sand of a beach, I will look up to heaven and wonder, hoping to see her smiling down on me.