Everyone seems to have their own idea of what Heaven will be like. Most seem to focus on what they have experienced thus far as ideal, and assume that it will be at least this--several times fold, in Heaven. I often invite the dying to dream about what Heaven will be like, fueling them with some of the enticements offered in Scripture. The book of Revelation gives the most descriptive pictures of its beauty.
On Oct 26, my best friend from high school lost his 4 and a half year old daughter to an odd form of cancer (PTLD). On the phone Matt told me, I guess you know what this is like. No, I have NO idea. I've never even had a child, let alone lose one. Sarah Elizabeth Brooks was a spunky, charismatic, resilient image of her parents. Cindy and I have been praying for her for months as she battled this illness at Children's Hospital in St. Louis. I was not prepared for the email I read that informed us of her death.
On a vocational note, I have been dealing with grief from about every angle one can imagine. Holding the hand of my 100-year old grandmother as she breathed her last this time last year was yet one more view of the ache of loss. Nothing could have prepared me for the funeral of Sarah this past weekend. Matt called me after her visitation asking if I could do him a favor. Anything--was my quick reply--I would have invented a way to help him for anything he asked. Be a pallbearer? Absolutely. God is in this, I know He is.
And that is what I keep telling myself. Her service was extremely personal--rivalling my father's for toughness to endure. A pale pink casket just her size was brought in by the four of us. Her service was a collage of personal remembrances by those who cherished her spirit most, replete with poetry by her mother. One of these included one titled, "I will not wear black" (to my daughter's funeral). Musical offerings included "Fearless" by Taylor Swift describing Sarah's fierce courage in facing cancer. Her brother Jacob, now 6, helped lead the singing of "This Little Light of Mine."
There are no words. I know that. Even though I do not have a daughter, I tried to try on Matt's grief, if that is even possible. The heaviness of its burden swallowed me whole with no respite in sight. Of course I want to be there for Matt, his wife Elizabeth, and son Jacob, through this.
I know that Jesus makes an excellent babysitter. I am praying that He gives them a glimpse of Sarah as she is today, and that this can be a portion of the hope of joy to come that keeps them plugged in. I realize that Scripture does this. Nevertheless, I am praying that a dream of some nature comes to the Brooks family about Sarah's life right now--in a manner that parents need to see.
Revelation 21:22-27
22 I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. 23 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. 24 The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. 25 On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. 26 The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. 27 Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life.
