What’s Heaven Like?

When someone you love dies you think about all kinds of philosophical things like heaven and hell and life after death. I have my own theory about what happens for believers after death. I know the Bible tells us that for believers they close their eyes in this life and wake up in the next. It’s instant. However I don’t think they are instantly with Jesus. 

I feel like we are all on a path to Jesus. Some of us are more towards the front of the line, those that are holier than thou (think Mother Teresa, upright and righteous pastors and priests, etc.). Then there are those of us who are making our way to Jesus and we’re on the path but we’re not at the level of spiritual leaders. And some are just beginning our journey of faith. Some have just started the walk and rely on those of us who are a little further ahead to reach back and extend our hands to help them along the way or offer encouraging words. And then there are those who have gotten off the path completely and either got lost and discouraged or refuse to believe in God. Everyone is at a different place in line but all heading towards the same direction and those that are off the path may not make it there at all. We know that part is true based on what the Bible says.  14 But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.(Matthew 7:13-14)

My theory is that it’s the same on the other side of the veil. When someone dies they’re just on the other side starting their journey to Jesus. The Bible tells us we are greeted by familiar faces when we die so I imagine those that have preceded us in death recently are there waiting to greet us. They’re closer to where we are on the journey. Those that have passed a long time ago are further along the path and may not be there to greet us. I think when we pass we don’t have direct, immediate access to Jesus or Mary or the disciples because they are the holiest of holy and we are baby angels just making our way. I think we can hear his voice and know his presence and communicate and commune with other angels to constantly worship him but we’re not at his feet or his right hand yet. 

It makes sense then that when someone you love and are close to passes you pick up on signs from them. Sure it could be coincidence but I don’t think so. I think they’re “Godwinks” or winks from loved ones in Heaven, just on the other side of the sheer curtain. I think as they make their way closer to Jesus they slowly fade from our realm and the signs and winks eventually stop which helps us in the letting go process too. 

I may be really wrong. There’s no way to know what Heaven is like without actually going. I can’t wait for my day to come. I will be running to Jesus so don’t be offended if I don’t stick around to give you a sign. Actually I think that may be the case for my Gabe. I feel like he gave me a sign last night but I’m not sure how many more I’ll get because if I know Gabe I know he’s on the other side and he is not holding back, he is running to Jesus. I’d do the same thing. 

So again, I may be wrong, but I may be right! Those of you who are more knowledgeable of the Bible give me some feedback. These are just random thoughts since I don’t sleep much these days and my other half lives in Heaven now. I can only imagine what it’s like. 

Swimming to Shore

For a little bit there I could breathe again. I’ve spent the last year and a half kicking towards the surface, holding my breath and kicking like hell,  trying to break the surface to exhale and then take in the most wholesome, glorious breath. I finally breathed in life again and for the first time in a long time I felt normal again. I didn’t feel like the sad widow. I felt like the beautiful woman who was dating a guy who was crazy about her. I felt confident and more like myself than I have in a long time.

It’s exhausting to always be fighting to persevere, to keep juggling all the balls in the air, trying not to let any of them fall, trying to maintain this life as a strong woman when I really just want to fall into my man’s arms at night and let down my guard. For a little while I had that and I could breathe easy again. I guess I should be thankful for that. For the short break that I had, the life rope that was thrown my way. But right now as I look at my tear stained face in the mirror, my hair a mess and my lips stained with red wine, in my yoga pants and my workout shirt that says “enjoy every moment” I’m finding it hard to be thankful. I’m laughing at God’s sense of humor and the irony of my choice of clothing tonight. I didn’t expect a grief wave to hit me like this when I grabbed my night clothes from the edge of the bathtub where they had been laid the night before.

You know life is funny. You think you have it all and the rug gets ripped out from under you. You think you don’t deserve it and it’s given to you on a silver platter. You think you can’t survive and yet you keep on breathing. You think you’ll never love again and yet you do. You think nothing can hurt as bad as burying your loved one but then you’re left alone by choice and that hurts just as bad whether you want to admit it or not. I don’t know what the meaning or the message is, I’m still trying to figure that out. I wish I knew. I guess there are just some questions that can’t be answered this side of heaven.

I suppose I’ll keep on keepin on. I’ll keep writing letters to heaven and holding my breath for the next time I break the surface again. One of these days I’ll make it to the beach and then I’ll walk happily, the sun shining on my face again. One of these days I’ll breathe in the sweet smell of the sea salt air and the sunkissed flowers and look back at the vast ocean I swam across and be thankful for the journey. One of these days I’ll dance in the sun. One of these days. I’m holding my breathe and kicking like hell until then.

Speak To Me, I'm Listening

We're going on a year since Mark moved to heaven. What a difference a year makes! I  don't know who came up with the notion  that a year is adequate time to grieve, there's no time limit or order to processing grief, but there is something to it. I can say I'm doing a lot better than I was 9, 6, even 3 months ago.

There's something about coming up to the year anniversary that shifts things a little. The sting of it is not as strong. The hole in my heart is still there and the loneliness is still there but it's not as crippling. I don't feel suffocated by my grief like I used to. I'm learning to live again, learning to live with the vacancy left by my sweet husband. I'm settling in to my solitude and leaning in to my calling.

When Mark passed I remember making the choice to be the light. It was in those initial days after his passing, before the funeral. I was heartbroken in the worst way. I couldn't breathe, couldn't function, I just kept cursing and drinking to numb the pain. Just recalling that night brings me to tears. It was horrible. But in those initial gut- wrenching moments I felt a tiny sense of peace and the calling to "be a lighthouse" to others in a storm. I responded. I chose to be obedient. I chose to be the light.

Everything I post on social media is purposeful. I didn't over-share because I have no filter. I share because I'm being transparent, because I'm being a lighthouse for those that come behind me. I heard the call and I answered and I hope that I've helped at least one person deal with grief or life's troubles, or treasure life maybe a little bit more than they used to.

We, as a society, don't know how to deal with loss or delayed gratification, and we definitely don't know how to deal with grief. We are so used to having it all, or at least having the ability to get it. We don't like when things are taken from us. We don't like to lose. We give every kid on the team a trophy because we don't want to hurt their feelings. We shield our kids from death and dying because it's sad and sometimes not pretty. We shield them because it hurts deeply and that's scary. So we, as kids, grow up to fear death and when it happens to us we don't know how to deal with it. We've never HAD to. We've never been taught. In other countries they know heartache. They don't have access to medical care or basic essentials like we do and they fall ill and die, or in some countries are murdered, so death is a way of life. They accept it and deal with it and move forward. They honor the dead. We hide from it. We mask it with pills or drugs or alcohol or sex or any other "poison." We don't process and grieve in a healthy way.

I was called to be the light, to be a lighthouse in the storm. In my own pain I surrendered to God and my calling and shared my journey every step of the way. I don't know what's next for me. I feel a strong pulling at my heart to give more of myself to His work. I don't know if that will be stepping out in leadership at church, or writing a book, or speaking publicly. I don't know what that looks like, I'm still waiting on leadership from God to know where to step next, I just know it's happening.

I've felt the calling slowly over the years and then all at once. I've grown in my faith exponentially this past year. But it didn't all happen in one year. When I look back at memories or Facebook posts or think back I am reminded of prayers that I wrote down or dreams that I had that now seem more prophetic in nature than random dreams. Like the dream I had in 2013 (?) when I raised my hands in worship and was being pulled up to heaven. Or the prayer I prayed for God to help me lead and teach others and give me a platform and the words to say (I prayed and posted this prayer back in 2013). Or the blog posts I wrote in years past. All of these things seem to be part of a bigger plan or quilt that's slowly coming together. It's beginning to make more sense.

I'm still on my journey. I still miss my husband deeply but I feel more at peace now. God gave me peace and faith the size of a mustard seed at first but it's grown and is still growing. I'm learning to walk faithfully, not frantically. I'm lonely but not desperate. I'm brokenhearted but not crushed. I'm learning how to be still but moving forward. I'm learning that being still is not NOT moving. It's a stillness of spirit, not action. It's a peace and stillness from within. I'm settling into my singleness and my purpose. Who knows what the future holds; look how much changed in one year! We shall see. I'll continue to go where I'm led. He's never steered me wrong.

"I'm in awe that You would come to me
In awe that I could hear You speak.
Speak to me. I'm listening."~ Speak To Me by Kari Jobe