No Eye Has Seen
January 9, 2022 — Laura House
If you are a bereaved parent, then I’m guessing that nearly every day something in your life spurs a memory of your sweet child. Last week, a winter storm dropped several inches of snow to our usually mild-weathered state of Virginia. The breathtaking view out my window took my mind back to previous years.
When we lived in Kentucky and Indiana while raising the kids, snow was a much-anticipated occurrence. In Kentucky, our backyard led out to a small golf course and pond, owned by the college next to us. The steep hill on the course became the highly acclaimed sledding hill for the whole community on days like this. Hours would pass without the slightest complaint as the kids enjoyed sledding, building snowmen, and pummeling each other and friends with snowballs. Of course, these excursions were always followed by a cup of steaming hot chocolate, a blazing fire in the fireplace, and exhausted contentment.
Moving to Indiana brought a whole new level of delight since the snow came so often. Since we lived on a farm with acreage and a hill, the snow brought many adventures. I distinctly remember one snowfall when my sister’s family was visiting. Nathan and his cousin Ethan headed outdoors to explore. After a few hours, one of us commented that we hadn’t seen the boys in quite a while. I poked my head outdoors and called their names, without any response. My sister, Leah, and I bundled up to check on them, but after looking in the barn and other outbuildings, and loudly yelling for them, we still hadn’t found them. Only then did the adrenaline kick in and my brain began suggesting the wild scenarios of danger that they might have encountered.
Beginning to feel a bit frantic, we headed down the eighth-mile lane still calling their names. Suddenly we noticed a huge pile of snow in the ditch to the right of the driveway and an opening at the end of it. Squatting down, we peered inside where we found two very happy cousins, cozily chatting in their homemade, well-insulated and apparently sound-proof igloo, totally oblivious to the worried moms outside. In this picture you’ll see their “what on earth are you worried about because we are fine” faces poking out to greet us.
I imagine that if Nathan poked his head out from Heaven to greet me today, he’d have the same look on his face. But this time he is far more than “fine.” He is more alive than ever, living in the presence of Jesus, enjoying all that has been prepared for us.
“However, as it is written: No eye has seen, nor ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.” I Corinthians 2:9
