Birthday cake in heaven?

 

Do they have cake in heaven? How do you celebrate? Do you spend it with your mom and Papaw Warren and Granny or friends you've made up there? Are you celebrating your 25th or are you perpetually 15 like you are down here? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Did you get mom to bake you your favorite? What shape did you make the cake? Have you tried the manna yet? How about the sweet milk and  honey? Does the food there have calories? Does candy rot your teeth? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you get to drive on the streets of gold to the bakery or can you fly? Are the butterfly decorations real butterflies that hover above the roses like they do here searching for you? Has anyone explained déjà vu to you yet? These are just a few of the questions I have for you. 

Do they have cake in heaven? Is your guest list long? Is Mom letting you have friends over? Have you made many friends? Does Jesus stop by now and then? Did you invite Moses, David, Esther or Noah? Do angels hang the decorations? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do they let you light candles or is the fire reserved for another place?! Do they use the trick candles up there? Do you get to stay up way past your bedtime? Do you even have a bedtime in heaven? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you get presents? What do you want for your birthday? What can I get a girl who truly has everything she could ever want? Can you get flowers up there? Is there a FedEx delivery service? What about GPS in case I need to get to you? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you have time to miss us down here? Do you know how much we miss you? Do you think you could let us hear you laugh one more time? Maybe see you smile? Can you visit us in our dreams and let us hold you like before? These are just a few of the questions I have for you.

Do they have cake in heaven? Can you save a slice for me? Do you like how happy I am knowing where you are? Do you know how sad I am that you're not here? Do you know that the minute you left I longed to join you? Do you know that God had a bigger plan for me here? Do you know how happy He has made me with the gifts he has given me in my new earthly family? These are just a few of the questions I have for you. 

Do they have cake in heaven? Do you love your step-sisters as much as I do? Do you love my wife for the happiness she brings me? Do you love that God has brought me into a new family just like He did you? Has anyone explained déjà vu to you yet?These are just a few of the questions I have for you. 

Yes, they have cake in heaven. I know that they do. I know you are smiling as you enjoy another piece. I know you are saving a piece for me and a place for me at your table just as Christ saved a place for you at His. I know that you and mom are responsible for God directing my new forever into my life. I know that you want me to be happy and I know you are okay with my being sad. I know you know I miss you and that the rest of your family does too. I know you still paint the sunsets for me and send the butterflies my way. I know that you have made my life sweeter than it ever could have been without you. These are just a few of the answers I have for you.

Enjoy your cake in heaven. I'll enjoy my life down here. I'll think of you and miss you daily and look forward to our great reunion. My shoes will be squeaking as I run down those golden avenues to your door. I'll swing your door wide open and sing Happy Birthday at the top of my lungs to make up for all the ones I've missed. These are just a few of the things I'll do for you. 

I like to move it, move it

Today I said a prayer for my niece. She has fear in her heart. Not the, “Mommy it’s dark outside can you leave a light on” fear. Not a “there is a monster under my bed” fear. Not even a “the thunder scares me” fear. No, she has a fear that is not quite so easily dismissed.

Twelve months ago today I called my life to find out why she was late for lunch. She didn’t answer. 365 days ago I sent repeated text and made repeated phone calls that went unanswered. It was not unlike my wife to be late for something. It was not unlike my wife to sleep in after a long night at work. But it WAS unlike her to not answer her phone. So I finally looked at my staff and told them I was going home to check on her to see why she wasn’t answering her phone. I didn’t expect to find anything other than my wife in the shower, unable to answer the phone.

That’s not what I found.

I walked into the bedroom and noticed the bed was unmade but she was not in it. Instead she was collapsed at the foot of the bed. 

And this is the fear that grips my niece. This is the reason she looks at me, and every other adult in her life, and asks if we are okay. This is why she is afraid to take her eyes off her gran. And why every little cough or sneeze has her brow furrow with concern. And, today, one year from when her aunt was rushed to the hospital to live out her final 6 days, she worries about her mom who lies in a hospital bed recovering from routine surgery.

How do you deal with a child who has already had to face a grown up fear so early in her life? Someone who has seen her young cousin as well as her aunt taken from her. If you thought this post was going to bring you an answer I apologize and you can stop reading because you will not find anything definitive here.

Too many adults in my life face the same fears. I’ve been through it enough to know that I’ll go through it again. Loss is inevitable. There is nothing I can do to stop it. And there is nothing I can do to stop the worry in my little niece’s heart. I can only pray. I can pray for the same peace that overwhelms me when the pain bubbles up. I can pray that she will let God overcome the spirit of fear. I can pray for her mom to pull through the surgery with flying colors.

What about the children in your life? How do they handle grief? Her siblings all handle it quite differently. Some don’t mind talking about their aunt or even their cousin (much to the horror of many adults who think they are shielding me from their prying questions). And they aren’t alone. Many a child wants to ask me questions about “why her die?”. And, I don’t have an answer. Explaining death to a child, whether that be the death of a person or of a goldfish, is beyond me. In the end, no matter how you explain it, you will never get to see that person, or goldfish, ever again. At least this side of heaven. And even then I can’t promise a child they would ever see their goldfish again (And, while I miss Spike, I’ve never focused a blog post on him), because I don’t know if all goldfish go to heaven.

However you try to explain death to a child there is little comfort in the answer. Explaining death to an adult is not much easier. The only answer I have is based on a couple of questions for you. Did your life begin the day you moved into the place you now live? Will it end if you move out of that place and into another? That’s how I feel about the life we have on this earth. My life did not begin when I moved into this body I currently inhabit. (Psalm 139:16 - Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one came to be). My life does not end when I move out of this body. (Hebrews 11:16 Instead, they were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.)

So, while this brings only a little comfort to me, my child and my wife have moved. They no longer live here. They have finally moved home. I know this will not comfort my niece and dispel her fears, but perhaps she will find some solace in the fact that, when we move on from here we will get to move home with our Father (John 14:2 My Father’s house has many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?)

I’m moving on until one day I get to move on. Care to join me?

You've got a friend in me

As a guy, and maybe even as a woman (I don't know since I've never been one), it is sometimes difficult to lay ourselves bare. To admit that we are weak. To show that pain hurts us as much as the next person. To be vulnerable. The pack mentality sets in. If you expose your weakness then someone is going to pounce on you and cause even more damage. If you don't believe me just ask your husband, boyfriend, brother, or father. They won't tell you. 

Today I faced one of those events that was, as a friend of mine called it, an emotional land mine. I like that term (although I don't like the actual land mine). I had some business to clear up in Wanda's name. As I sat across from the public official I had to face I had to explain that I needed something taken out of Wanda's name and put into mine. One of the legal hoops I have to jump through is showing a death certificate. The actual piece of official paper calls it a certificate of death. In other words I had to prove that my wife was dead. I wanted to rip my chest open, pull out the remains of my heart, lay it on the counter and say, "Here! Look at this heart. Is it not proof enough? Do you not see this lump in my throat, the tears streaming down my face? What more proof do you need?" Yes, Angry Me was bubbling up from the surface and was about to take frustrations out on this poor public servant who was just doing her job. But I throttled Angry Me and simply looked through misty eyes and told her I would be back with the proper paperwork. 

All of this occurred after having lunch and a great visit with a sweet friend. I had, momentarily, been on a high note (well, higher than the normal lows I experience). That faded fairly quickly. Fortunately my business for the day had not ended and my next trip took me to the office of a good friend who basically looked at me and asked me how my day was going. That's when the floodgates opened up. Rather than pounce, however, this man looked at me and told me to take my time, he had all day. Now I doubt he really had all day, but he did give me an hour to talk. And he gave me good advice as well. I figuratively rolled over and exposed my soft side to him and rather than rip me to shreds he rubbed my belly. (Believe me when I say that was figuratively speaking. I wasn't allowing that man, no matter how good a friend he is, near my literal belly. I just wanted to set that straight before going any further.)

The afternoon ended with a quick visit with a former coworker and her son. What made me smile inside the most is that the young man seemed genuinely glad to see me and blushed when I told him how proud I was of his progress in school. After my visit with them I rushed off to my dinner date. Again I found myself showing my aching heart even though I tried to suppress it. And again I was not attacked by a hungry wolf trying to get out of me all they could and leave me tattered and torn. Instead they picked me up and helped bandage my wounds. I invited this wonderful couple over to the house and we sat and visited more. Now the stories were good stories. Good memories. Sure, there were tears. But the fond memories gave me enough strength to go find the paperwork needed to finalize this little bit of business I have to do. 

I have devoted my life to trying to be there for others. I have tried to be a friend to those with few. I have done my best to inspire and motivate. And, yes, I have been abused and taken advantage of more times than I care to remember. But I believe I have gotten where I am in my journey with the help of the friends I have made along the way. And my friends will continue to carry me. If you haven't lived your life in a manner that provides you with true friends then may I recommend that you start today. It will be one of the best investments you can make and I promise, these investments will pay off in the end. They have for me. 

And the two shall become...

Amputees call it phantom or ghost pains. That feeling that a missing limb is still there even when it's not. I'm sure it has to be frustrating. An itch you can't scratch. A pain you can't treat. I'm also sure that a new amputee probably forgets that limb is missing. For years you have always reached for something with your right hand. Now that hand isn't there but you reach for something with your arm not remembering for that brief moment that limb is missing. Not only is it frustrating but it's also a painful reminder of what is no longer there. 

Ghost pains of the heart are the same way. You can't scratch that itch. You can't tend to the pain. A part of your very soul is missing. The scriptures refer to marriage as the two becoming one. So, this new math also means that removing one from the two equals less than one. And here you are complaining about Common Core mathematics. 

Amputation has left me at less than one now. This removal of the love of my life has made me less of a man. Some moments my brain tricks me into thinking that the missing part is still there. I reach for the phone to call her. I'll reach my foot over in bed to find hers. I'll open the garage door. Any number of things can occur that make me act out of habit. But then realization sets in. And it sets in hard. 

Some days the overwhelming weight of it all will strike me causing me to lose focus. My eyes don't work right. Words get jumbled in my mind or disappear altogether. I'll say or text things to friends and wonder what the heck was I thinking? (Nothing like thinking you are telling a young female friend to let you know if you can do anything FOR her only to hit send and realize you text the word TO instead of FOR!) I travel in time in my mind to better days or to future events that I know won't be good. And before I know it an hour or two has passed and I don't know where the time went or how I got where I was. 

Last night a young boy saw the rings on my hand - both mine and Wanda's. he looked a me with a 6yo wonder and says, " You are married to two people?" No, son, I am only married to one.

And now, the one shall become less than one. and the ghost pains will be there for years to come.

Letter to the Broken Hearted

Recently a friend of mine came to me and asked me if I would write a letter to a family member of hers whose child had recently passed. I've written about it, delivered speeches, and taught lessons about it before and I really don't mind.

If there is something I can say that might comfort someone in their time of grief, then I would love to help. However, rather than write an individual letter, let me write something to those of you who have experienced the crushing pain that comes with losing someone who is supposed to outlive you. Feel free to pass it on.

Dear Friend,

I have been asked to write you a letter that a loving friend of yours hopes will make the pain go away. Unfortunately, no such letter exists.

You don't want words of comfort. You want to see your loved one again. It's not that the words of comfort are not appreciated, I can just tell you from experience, that there are no magic words, scriptures or rituals, that will make the pain instantly disappear. What I can tell you is that you are not alone in your feelings. In the first few days you cannot understand why people are still moving along as if the world had not ended.

In the days and weeks that follow your tragedy you will begin to return to a more normal life. Only, it is a new normal. You now have a new level of happiness. One that comes with survivor's guilt. You feel guilty for smiling, for laughing. For breathing. This is especially noticeable when you attend a function you and your child always did together.

You will be angry with the people around you. Don't be. Some feel guilty for still having their child. Others don't know what to say or how to act. You will lose some friends, but you will gain some new ones. Friends that want to hear about your child and the life that they lived. And you won't mind telling them.
They will cry with you. They will laugh with you.

You will get around to getting rid of some of your child's belongings. But you will also have an emotional attachment to things you will not be able to give away. Do this in your own time. It has been 4 1/2 years for us and, while we have given some of her stuff away (and she had a lot of stuff!) our daughter's room remains much the same.

You will handle it. You will handle it in your own time and in your own way. Don't allow anyone to rush you. And, spouses, be mindful of your partner's feelings. Just because you are ready, doesn't mean that he or she is.

You will stand in an ocean of sorrow facing the shore as unseen waves softly lap at your shoulder when, suddenly, a tsunami of grief will hit you knocking you to your knees. You will rise and set your feet firmly determined to stand. Eventually, these tidal waves become fewer and farther between. But they never go away completely.

You will survive. Rely on faith, friends, family and fond memories. Your child is never gone as long as they live on in your thoughts.

I hope this helps.