Who I Want to Meet in Heaven

The other day in church, an oboist played a beautiful Bach partita or sonata or something and I leaned over to whisper in my kids’ ears “Daddy has met J.S. Bach”. He has. He probably has even told him that I am planning on taking violin lessons from him and that I plan on spending at least 3 years straight with him, playing through all of his duets, sonatas, trios, minuets, etc. Just me and Bach.

Then I started thinking about how many people I am looking forward to meeting, in addition to my favorite, Bach...

Paul

Mary

Noah’s wife

Eve

Job

Abraham Lincoln

C.S. Lewis

The woman at the well (I wanna know what she did after she told the town about Jesus? I bet she opened up an orphanage or something really brave. Also the woman from John 8….after Jesus told her to go. What did she go do with her dignity intact? What was her name? How did she live the rest of her life?)

Anyone who went to school with Jesus – maybe one of the girls who had a crush on Him

George Washington

Please understand that the number one person I am anxious to meet is Jesus Himself. To have Him look at me and say “Welcome home” will be the sweetest, most generous, and totally awesome thing that can and will EVER happen to me. And it will happen someday. But I want to get back to my point.

There is someone I really want to meet. I don’t even know her name. Or his name. Neither do you. Do you remember the verse in the Bible that says “whoever is the least among you will be the greatest”? The Bible often talks about how the lowly will be lifted up and the exalted will be brought down low….”the least of these”….My thought doesn’t have anything negative do to with these heroes I listed above. I can’t wait to eat dinner with them. They were GREAT down here. What I am so curious about is who are these “least of these” people? I want to go on long walks with them and hear how they managed life on earth. I want to behold their strength and courage and honor and take a tour of their HUGE mansion that God has built just for them. They are not talked about down here on earth. But I bet we will be serving them in heaven.

So I am looking forward to meeting the least of these.

And I’m pretty much looking forward to seeing John again. Right after Jesus.

Does John Know That?

It’s January. 10 weeks after John has died. Wait, is that right? I was definitely keeping an exact count and maybe I am off by a week now. Not sure. I still count. I still REALLY know that he is gone. Very much so.

Top Chef Season 10 started. He doesn’t even know their names. He doesn’t know that my favorite is Brooke. His would be the guy with the funky moustache. And Downton Abbey. He has no idea what is happening (um, neither do I except for all the spoiler alerts on Facebook!) Mad Men will start in April and he won’t see it. Ridiculous. Stupid. I wish he would be here to watch them with me.

John also doesn’t know and cannot see that I ripped up the carpet going up the stairs. You know, the one that I wanted to change for the last 9 years? Yeah, that one. Gone. Redoing the stairs with chalkboard paint on the rise and these cool stick on carpet treads. New artwork, new lamps, new front door mat. AND…..my newly decorated bedroom. White bedding, fun colors of pillows, that “Soli Deo Gloria” painting that Kelly painted during his memorial service, a picture of a bird, and teal lampshades. Its pretty girly. I really like it.

Not sure the theology about whether John SEES and KNOWS these things. But I see and know them. I miss him. I hate watching these shows without him. But I don’t mind the decorating thing without him. I can do what I want now. Choose a color without asking. I will not go overboard, I promise. I am just finding a new color. A new crispness to my air. In the moments of heaviness when I, by myself, watch these TV shows that John and I watched together, I will then go up to my cool new bedroom, grab my ipad, and say goodnight to the wallpaper photo of John, just like I do every night. But this time under a new white duvet.

Words Have Meaning

I have a tattoo. John had one too.

There. I said it. Some people know, some don’t. Some people like it, others don’t. Honestly, I don’t care. I love it and I would even encourage my kids to get one that has meaning to them (both are interested) in a place where employers and grandparents won’t see.

My tattoo has tremendous meaning to me now…more than ever. And John’s was the theme of his funeral – Soli Deo Gloria, which roughly means “God alone gets the glory”. His friend designed his and my friend drew out mine. And these words are forever (?) printed on our bodies.

I wanted to remember the words that were on John’s body and place them in our house somehow, so I had my friend Kelly paint them. It now hangs over my bed – a daily reminder of John and how God should receive the glory for anything and everything.

I bet we all would agree that words can tear down or build up. We use words everyday - some more than others. We’ve all said things we shouldn’t have and we've all regretted things left unsaid. But that is not exactly what I am talking about here.

My one-word tattoo is a way of life. A daily, showertime, reminder that there is something worth living for. It is an idea, a belief, an encouragement. I had no idea 3 years ago that it would be something that means this much to me. Dare I say that God brought this word to me and led me to have it forever inked on my skin? Whatever. I did it and I am glad. It has such deep and profound meaning to me. Every day.

My word?

Hope.

Am I Ready?

I remember when John and I talked about having kids. I begged him for about a year to start trying but he wanted a million dollars in the bank first. True story. He actually said that. Let’s just say that eventually I got my way and about 9 months later we had Rachel.

I think we are never “ready” to have kids. My brother and his wife just adopted and they are finding their way, marvelously, as new parents - but the whole thing is overwhelming and there are no real “directions” on how to parent. Sure there is lots of advice but you just kinda have to DO IT.

My point? I have decided I am going to take off my wedding rings.

I figure I will never be “ready”. I just have to do it. Can you imagine with me how I am going to finally decide to do it? It's like ripping off a band-aid, like parachuting, like when I was giving John shots toward the end….how do I bring myself to do this? I haven't done it yet, but I am thinking about deciding to do it.

You see, according to the United States of America, the Social Security Administration, the DMV, and the state of Virginia, etc., I am single. I can no longer check the box that says “married”. I need to start embracing, in truth, my new reality. When I see the rings on my finger, it says to me “married”. But the status of my relationship with John has, in its earthly realms, changed. I do not love him any less. (Probably more, if I am honest.) But our relationship has changed. When we said our vows, we said “til death do us part”. Here we are. I have reached the “til”.

I don’t like it, but there is a reality here for me. I want to live in truth. By taking my rings off, I am facing my story which is now carrying on without John alive. He is most certainly still around - I talk to him and about him often. I want him to be “around” always. So, in this change of relationship, I will take off my rings, save the diamond for Jake, and melt our two wedding bands into something new – something I wear differently as a necklace or a bracelet….perhaps with my favorite word.

HOPE.

Because I have hope that I will see John again. I have hope that this new chapter in my life has purpose and meaning and a future of joy, even in its differentness.

Will you hope that with me?

My Book, His Paragraph

There are many thing I miss about my husband. I could write elaborate sentences about his generosity, helpfulness, chivalry, and romance. But there are many things I do not miss about my husband. I could write a very lengthy and equally elaborate paragraph about these things. No, I will not be writing these down. Ever. That information is for a choice few.

But if I am honest with myself, John could (and did) write beautiful things about me. And he could write a book about what he does not miss about me.

During this season of Lent, I have been reminded of death almost daily. My husband’s, friends who have cancer, my friend’s dog who has cancer, and trees that didn’t make it in our last snow storm. While running, I have been listening to “Songs for Lent” from a New York Hymns - a collection of songs based on the stations of the cross. It tells me the story over and over again about what Jesus did for me. It makes me grateful and it makes me want to turn away from the very things that He died for. My sins. The book that John could write about what he doesn’t miss about me.

So what are those things? You may know some of them as you read this and many you do not know. God knows them all and I know quite a few….but probably not all. So I ask myself, “What are those things that my eyes are not open to? What are those things that keep me from a pure relationship with God and with others?” The season of Lent is set aside for me to examine my heart, attitudes, and behaviors and turn away from those things that tie me down. Yeah….repent.

I am repenting from the book that John could write about me and developing the sentences or paragraphs that he and others could write about me now. But not for any other reason than to be thankful for the sin that is behind me and for the hope of future glory in store for me. To know the gravity of the cross and live in light of its promise is on my mind these days. But I am wanting to be honest about who I was, who I am, and who I will be.

What would your paragraph or book say?

Our Hearts

I was watching that movie “Seven Pounds” with Will Smith where he chooses to help 7 people “paying forward” for the fact that 7 other people had died as a result of his fault in a horrible car accident. I won’t spoil the movie for you in case you haven’t seen it. Please do. It is painful yet beautiful.

In the movie, the most poignant scene for me was the heart transplant scene. This woman gets a new heart, and everyone in the operating room is waiting to see if that heart, not hers, will start to beat. It starts beating. And I thought “The heart is a muscle that just wants to work. It wants to beat.”

The heart also wants to love.

There is a new man in my life. His name is Jackson. He is 5 days old. My nephew. I haven’t met him yet but I saw his face on my phone last night with his pudgy face and his huge hands and I loved him. I was meant to love him. My heart couldn’t wait to love him. It was meant to love.

Hearts beat, giving us life. Hearts love, giving us purpose in life.