And the Walls Came Tumbling Down

It's just the logical "next step". That's what I have been saying to myself and to everyone else who asks me about Luke's graduation and eventual departure to college. I knew that if I let myself "feel" in this situation--especially as I prepared for his graduation party--that my emotions would bowl me over like a steamroller, so I just conveniently kept them at bay.

But today I woke up and I just didn't feel good; my back hurt, my stomach ached and I just felt "out of sorts". And I was hungry, really hungry (as if I didn't eat enough chocolate revel bars at Luke's party). What was with that? Here's what was with that; I had been holding in all those feelings, those emotions, and those little sorrows too long, and this afternoon, the walls came tumbling down. As I was sort of stumbling through my day, I sat outside on the porch and looked at the swing set in the backyard and saw young Luke swinging on it in my mind. And then the tears flowed...and flowed...and flowed. And I had to give the bowl of raisin bran that I was eating to the dog because I couldn't eat it anymore. As if this wasn't enough for my soul, I went and dug out Luke's baby book and opened the manila file stuck in the very back. I took out a dozen letters written in my handwriting on faded notebook paper. These were letters I had written to baby Luke--passionate letters full of joy and wonder and all-consuming love--letters to a little baby who had transformed my life. And then I cried some more.

Why do we cry when we reminisce and relive happy times? Shouldn't they make us joyful? Shouldn't they fill us up?

I think I cry because I realize that I have already lived that part of my life and I won't ever do it again. I cry when I remember falling in love with Brent and the wonderful fairytale courtship we shared. I cry when I remember the thrill of early marriage and creating a home. I cry when I remember how surprised I was by the enormous, overpowering, protective love I felt for Luke when he was born--and I didn't even know him! Yet, I loved him more than myself because he was MINE. I cry when I think of all of these things because they were wonderful blessings from God and I know I only get to experience them once here on earth.

But Heaven, oh Heaven! Heaven will always be like those moments that we cry about--like those golden, sweet memories we hold so dear. And in Heaven, we won't have to let go of those feelings or adjust our emotions to our continually evolving circumstances. In Heaven, every day will be like the best days we have experienced here on earth. Every day will be falling in love with Brent! Everyday will be being a new bride! Everyday will be setting up my very own home! Everyday will be a beautiful day with my child. And I will be fulfilled--always. But my happy memories will pale in comparison to being in the presence of the Ultimate Joy-Giver. Ultimately fulfilled, ultimately transformed, in Heaven I will truly be HOME...there will be no more tears.

It still makes me sad that my sweet first-born is growing up, but it truly is the logical next step in his life--and mine. Now God can show Luke all of those wonderful, life-giving, breath-taking moments of time as He creates another beautiful legacy of love.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Revelation 21:1-4