Dear Me,
Time is a funny thing. I feel as if twenty years will go as a
whisper, when I hope they will come as a roar.
I want to remember this
particular time in all its detail, hoping the pen will sear my memory.
I don’t plan to lose my memory,
nor do I plan to get sick, and certainly I do not plan to become a burden to my
husband or my children. But there is
something eloquently perfect in the returning of one’s self to need; I am seeing it over and over again. I am convinced of two things. One, I will someday see heaven. And two, if the heavenly Father authored it,
it is for my greater good.
Four weeks ago, I saw my father
pass into glory. Fourteen years ago, I
saw my mom. Both were painful, the latter shockingly short, the former,
agonizingly long.
I remember the rules and
boundaries I set for both. I broke them
all. Like the mother that lays awake
with her child through long nights, the child lays awake with their parent for
long days.
The interdependence is
beautiful. Like the baby nursing from
her mother, a bond is formed. The bond
formed by feeding or bathing the parent, the bond seals us until we meet again
in glory.
The home is disrupted. The schedule is destroyed. Meal planning and Pinterest looking stops
like a freight train derailed. But the
holiness, the holiness of love, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons
displace all the fullness of time.
Bedside moments and cemetery
seconds pierce.
I want to remember...
I don’t want to be too proud to
accept help. I don’t want to be too busy to
see decline. I don’t want to forget that time
as family even in need, is the most sacred time of all.
I want to see glory, but I don’t
want to miss the glimpses this side of heaven. I want to point people until my
dying breath to the Savior because I have seen His grace in ways I could not
have ever imagined, in joy, but particularly in sorrow.
I want my parents to know that as
much as I miss them; I firmly believe
they are not missing me. I think they
are having a wonderful time, a glorious time and the second I arrive, it will
be just that, a second from the time they left.
I want my children to know that
the only thing that matters is loving Jesus and serving Him. I want them to understand that the key to Joy
is Jesus, happiness is just a side effect.
I want them to see the very best in people, because that is what He sees
in us. I want them to understand no
matter how badly we may be treated or hurt, we have not worn our brother’s
shoes, nor drank his cup of tea, nor captured life or loss or love through his
lens.
I want my husband to know that we
married forever. So, on this side, and
the other side, we walk and talk and dance always. When it feels like we are missing out with a
mess of kids in our middle, we are their glance at everlasting love. The one the Father gives and the one they
will aspire too when they look for Jesus.
I pray I find this letter. I pray at 70 I will write another to myself
at 90. I pray everything that is stored
up in my heart is shared. I pray I reach
heaven having spilled out everything He has given me.
And I pray I remember to thank
Him every single day until I can say thank you to his face for this holy place
where I can look back and look forward.
Until we meet again,
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