Homesick for Heaven

Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since our nephew Luke went to heaven.  The concept of time has become strange--some things seeming so recent and some so far away.  We have embarked on this road called grief.  No one wants to be on it, but we have no choice but to keep walking, not looking too far ahead, but concentrating on each small step.

As we gathered as a family after Luke's funeral, we joked that we should buy the house next door together as a time-share.  I am liking that idea more and more, but only if everyone can quit their jobs and live together in a sort of Melius commune--sitting in a circle in the bare living room, talking, laughing, crying, and holding each other up.  Was it just the newness of this reality?  Was it the being altogether in one place?  Somehow, sometimes, this all seemed more bearable then.

The hard part right now is not being able to be with Rick, Katie, and Lydia.  Since we returned, farm and family responsibilities and sick kids have kept us from making a return trip to see them.  We will, but it is taking much longer than we had hoped.

Grief and sadness are ugly, hideous things and I hate them  Hate them.

But, do you know what I LOVE?  The promise of HEAVEN, of an eternal life so beautiful that we cannot fathom it.  If not for this promise, this road would be truly, truly unbearable. 

Nathan (who often spends his church and prayer time spinning in circles and/or dancing), perched himself on the corner of the kitchen table a couple of nights ago and declared, 

"Heaven is our home.  This is not our home."

I am so thankful for these reminders, these feathers of hope, that God sends to float down when we need them most.

We received this beautiful prayer in a card from a friend yesterday.  I know we are not the first family to travel this road, nor are we the only ones traveling it now.  Feel free to share this, too, if you or anyone else may find comfort in it.

Lord, we know you are walking with our dearly departed Luke.  Bless him as he comes to share in the eternal banquet you have prepared.  Please show us your compassion and grace as we adjust to the changes in our lives here on earth.  As each day passes, help us to understand our need to surrender to your never-ending love.  Turn our tears of sadness to joy.  Let us weep with happiness for the new life Luke now enjoys.  It is through you, with you and in you that we will find peace.

Amen.