Ambushed
June 18, 2022 — Laura House
This morning at the grocery store, when heading toward the checkout, the young woman in front of me spied my cart and offered for me to go ahead of her since she had many more groceries than I did. I protested a bit, not wanting to cut in line, but she insisted. “My husband is home with the kids and I’m just enjoying being out. I’m not in any hurry!” I asked how old they were; 2 yrs old and 9 months.
Responding cheerfully I said, “I remember those days so well. So much fun! It’s actually all wonderful, and our kids are still our best friends. That was a long time ago for me. My oldest is 36.“
“How many kids do you have?” she queried.
I responded quickly with, “Two here on earth; they actually live here in Lynchburg, and one in Heaven. We miss him incredibly. He was 25.”
“I’m so sorry.” She looked into her cart and began rearranging some of the items.
“Thank you.”
Unloading my groceries onto the conveyor belt, I knew what she must be thinking about now—her two sweet little ones and the possibility of loss, and maybe wishing she hadn’t asked the question. I could feel her watching me as I continued to check out, and as I chatted with the cashier and the young man bagging my groceries. I was aware of the desire to show the joy that is in me because of Jesus, even though my mind was now thinking about how much I missed Nathan.
When I was done, I turned to her again and thanked her. She looked me in the eye and responded, and I knew she was still contemplating my loss.
As I walked to my car, I was surprised at how I felt inside. I had answered the question about my children many, many times over the past six years and had mentioned Nathan’s Heavenly residence without incident so many times. But once in a while, like today, the reality of the separation hits me like he just left, and I’m back in the middle of grief. After emptying my cart into the trunk, I headed home, eyes filled with tears and my heart full of longing for Nathan.
At the start of this journey of loss, every occasion like this spurred prolonged times of sorrow, as my mind and heart tried to understand the new reality. If you are a newly bereaved parent, you may be in that situation. But down the road a little, the mourning and sorrow of those early years began to turn into incidents like today — a short time of sadness and longing, followed by immense gratitude for the privilege of being Nathan’s Mom for twenty-five years here on Earth. These times now are always followed by a conversation with the Lord. If you are a bereaved parent then I suppose you won’t find it odd that I sometimes ask Jesus to give Nathan a hug for me and to tell him how much I love and miss him. I’m not really sure if He does it, but He might. Why not? It comforts me to think of it. (Once while talking with Gary about this, I discovered that he does this too!)
As full as I am of thanksgiving for the time of being Nathan’s mom on Earth, I’m even more thankful for the promise of eternity. Today helped remind me again of what we should all remember each day; this world is not our home! Our “citizenship is in Heaven.” Knowing that truth, we can strive to live each day with joy in the midst of suffering, purposefully seeking to fulfill God’s plan for each of our lives.
Who knows? Eternity may be closer than we think!
“This is the promise which He Himself made to us: eternal life.” — I John 2:25
“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.” —Philippians 3:20
“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.” — John 14: 1-3
