Devotion 328 Joy

It was just a corner.

A corner I have been at hundreds if not thousands of times.

It’s just up the street from my house. There is a stop light on the corner.  There are some stores.

My little daughter and I were on our way to school.

This is our trip, mid day, three-times each week to Pre-School.

I fly home with about twenty minutes to spare.  We quickly eat lunch and then we are off.

Normally she asks for “her music.”  It is Bible songs or the theme to Madeline in Paris.  And we sit, typically without a word spoken as she sings to the melodies.  I would be afraid to tell you how much I enjoy these moments.  Each and every one is a vacation from the hectic work day.  I glance often to my back seat and realize this is what joy looks like.

At 5,  Ava does not worry, she rarely thinks about tomorrow or yesterday.  Her life is a series of moments. I need to learn to live like her.

We sat at the stop light.  She had glanced out her window.  Over the music I heard her say, “Why don't you take me there?”

I looked back and then out of her window.  We were maybe five cars back in the line.  Rarely, at noon are there any cars.

I replied, “It’s a lamp store.”  “Yes,” Ava replied, “I need a lamp for my Grandma.”  For the last several weeks, almost wearily so, Ava has given us long recitations about her grandma in heaven.  Ava never knew my mom.  

This weekend marks a dozen years since Mom went home to heaven. I have a small picture on the fireplace of her and me.  Ava has taken to looking at it before she goes to bed at night often taking it to bed with her.  

Ava spoke up again from the back seat.  “My grandma’s lamp in heaven is broken.”

Ava has not read enough scripture to know about the light in heaven.  The light cast by Glory.  She has not thought long and hard enough about her Eternal life to know things don't break, not lamps, nor hearts.

I sat in silence.  There was the plate she had broken, just the other night.  

There is still some debate amongst her siblings exactly how that happened.  Perhaps she wondered if Grandma had ever done the same.  Perhaps she wondered if Grandma cried when her lamp broke and if she cried as hard as Ava had.  Fear does that.  But dear one, like there are no broken anythings, there is no fear in heaven either.

Where do I go with this truth, onto which corner do I turn as the light goes green, where does my heart lead this little girl?  She cannot know how much this weekend my heart travels back to that Sunday morning a dozen years ago.  It was Sunday morning before the dawn had even broke when the two of us sat alone.  

Mother had just passed into glory and I;  I learned what it means to have part of your heart pass away.

She cannot know, but the Holy Spirit, oh He does.  He knows the memory of someone dear can be birthed and cherished through the mind, heart and voice of a little girl.

He knows we can turn the corner of grief and self-pity or we can choose joy.  Joy in the memory.  Joy in the blessings.  Joy that the light that now surrounds Grandma lives in our hearts and the glory road upon which she walks every once in a while shows up here, on a corner.

I fight back tears as I remind Ava where Grandma lives.  I tell her if lamps are broken there, it’s because God shines so brightly Grandma doesn't need her old lamp.  Just like we didn't need that old red plate.  We need to remember Mama forgives broken plates and Jesus forgives bigger and better and longer and forever.

And one day,  Grandma  and us, well, we will sit on that glory road and soak in that marvelous light.  Yes Beloved, we can take twenty minutes and swallow the rush of the day, or we can turn a corner, exhale and remember to choose joy.

“The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp.”   Rev. 21:23