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On a hot July day, our family gathered to celebrate the milestones of our second grandson’s life. We played, ate, and enjoyed the best day. As we woke the next morning to get ready for church, Steve was feeling ill. He had been up a couple of times in the night with nausea and pain, but we dismissed it as indigestion.

“Do you want to go to the urgent care facility?”

“No…”

“I’m going to church, and when I get home, if you are still feeling bad, I will take you to the doctor.”

“Or I will see you again one day…”

“That’s not even funny, Steve. What do you mean by that?”

Steve went back to bed and I left the room. I returned in less than two minutes, and he was unresponsive. I blew in his mouth, screaming for help. Our sons and son-in-law worked so hard to get his heart beating until the ambulance arrived to take him to a waiting helicopter. All day he was being treated, as CODE BLUE alarms sounded for hours, doctors and nurses running to the room where he lay.

“If we are able to get his heart beating and keep it beating he will never be your Steve again.” And with those words, they removed everything he had been hooked up to, unplugging the external pacemaker, and he was gone.

I never even got to say good-bye.

Overwhelming sorrow, the kind that takes your breath away, when your body doesn’t know what to do because your brain hasn’t sent the message yet that he is gone. A roller coaster of emotions, up and down. My mother slept with me that first night, as I had done with her the night my daddy died years before. I felt her hand take mine, and she began to pray for me, for us all.

“Mom, I need to know that Steve is okay. I need to know.” And I sensed the Lord saying, “I let him tell you himself, Kathy….he will see you again one day.”

And those words took me back — I remembered the days long ago in the church nursery. It would amaze us how early those little ones knew that the person caring for them was NOT their person. And you could see it in their eyes, recognition that you WERE NOT THE ONE THEY WANTED. And the tears began. Very loud, very serious, heartrending, heartbreaking sobs from a tiny, little person. Their person was gone. We would whisper, “It’s okay, she is coming back for you in just a few minutes. I promise.”

But they couldn’t understand my words. To them, life as they knew it was over.

And when the parents would return, we would tell the babies, “See, I told you she would come back for you. I promised you, didn’t I?”

If a tiny baby could understood our words of comfort, likely she would doubt the nursery workers were telling her the truth, so great is her sorrow.

Thankfully, the Holy Spirit moves to comfort and remind us of God’s promises. “If I go away, I will come again.”

Yes, I totally get it now.

In heaven we will hear the Lord whisper in our ears, “See, I told you I would come back. You didn’t have to worry at all. I keep My promises.”

Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.
John 14:1-3 ESV

Father God, thank You for Your promise to prepare a place for us in heaven. We look forward to the day we will be received unto You there, reunited with our loved ones as well. Keep us faithful as we live out our days here on earth. Amen