I Know Someone Who Is With Jesus.
My earthly reality.
There are a lot of memories from April 5, 2016, mostly horrific. There are a lot of moments I wish I did not remember from the day I was left lying on my back, unable to breath, unable to get up, unable to comprehend what I was about to walk through in this life. But the moment that has been hardest to come to grips with, the one that I have struggled against pushing away from my memory, is the moment I felt the fiercest most intense pain I have ever felt. It was this moment that my world changed forever. It was the moment that I was told the worst words ever.
"Mom's gone."
All the sudden, my body, soul, mind, and heart had to attempt to come to grips with the reality that I was motherless. I couldn't understand, I didn't want to. I kept having to replay it over and over in my mind.
"I do not have a mom anymore. My mom is dead. My mom is dead. My mom is dead."
It sounded so incredibly wrong. Reading it even sounds wrong. But it was the truth, a truth that I would be playing in my head for months. It's painful enough to be told something like this, but to have to continuously remind myself for weeks and months afterward in order to come to grips with it - that was the torturous, most overwhelming part.
My mind had to crush my heart over and over again so that my body and spirit would begin to function in reality. "I can't call my mom. She's dead." "Don't send that snap to mom. She's dead." It didn't matter where I was. My mind would go on repeat. If I wasn't reminding myself, my mind could create crazy scenarios of reasons why she had survived somehow - like it was all a conspiracy theory - like there was still hope. Even after SEEING her body...twice, I would have to continuously remind myself. I figured that my struggle in this was my mind's way of forcing me into reality and was a normal part of grieving...or was it?
My Jesus Reality.
Although coming to reality with losing a loved one is a normal part of grieving, I have to think that part of my denial was that I know she's not dead. There was something that really did not sit right with me when I would hear those words. I mean really, she's not gone. She's not here, but she's not dead. I believe she's more alive than I have ever imagined. In fact, I could go as far to say that her leaving here is more like being raised to life than dying. No wonder I could not accept it. Everything I know about life and death and Jesus and the gospel - everything that matters points to the fact that she is, in fact, alive.
I won't see her again here on earth, but she exists in the place I am going. I know someone very well who is physically with Jesus. Think about that for a minute. This is a picture that someone painted for me a couple weeks ago and I cannot let it go.
With my earthly eyes, my mom is dead. She's gone. I won't see her again. I can dwell on that and be depressed and feel sorry for myself and cry and miss her and feel cheated. And although all those feelings are real, I can't help but joy in the fact that the person that I had such a deep connection with and am alike in so many ways; the person who raised me and showed me so much in this life is with Jesus right now, living right now. In a different dimension that I know nearly nothing of, she is with Him.
I am beginning to retrain my thoughts. "She's not dead. She's not dead. She's not dead." She's just graduated from this place. She's with the Father at the same time I am praying to Him. She's dancing and singing at the same time I am coaching and working. She's with Him, and He is with me. So, in a sense, she's not gone at all. If I put my gaze on the realities of this earth, which are barely realities at all, there's not a lot of meaning and it's all a struggle and a mess. But if I can keep my gaze on Jesus, I will find more and more of heaven on earth and that there is much life to be lived with Him in the present. This earth and everything in it is hopeless, but add Jesus to the equation and you'll find hope and meaning and grace to not only get through it, but to thrive in it. Thank you Jesus!
There are a lot of memories from April 5, 2016, mostly horrific. There are a lot of moments I wish I did not remember from the day I was left lying on my back, unable to breath, unable to get up, unable to comprehend what I was about to walk through in this life. But the moment that has been hardest to come to grips with, the one that I have struggled against pushing away from my memory, is the moment I felt the fiercest most intense pain I have ever felt. It was this moment that my world changed forever. It was the moment that I was told the worst words ever.
"Mom's gone."
All the sudden, my body, soul, mind, and heart had to attempt to come to grips with the reality that I was motherless. I couldn't understand, I didn't want to. I kept having to replay it over and over in my mind.
"I do not have a mom anymore. My mom is dead. My mom is dead. My mom is dead."
It sounded so incredibly wrong. Reading it even sounds wrong. But it was the truth, a truth that I would be playing in my head for months. It's painful enough to be told something like this, but to have to continuously remind myself for weeks and months afterward in order to come to grips with it - that was the torturous, most overwhelming part.
My mind had to crush my heart over and over again so that my body and spirit would begin to function in reality. "I can't call my mom. She's dead." "Don't send that snap to mom. She's dead." It didn't matter where I was. My mind would go on repeat. If I wasn't reminding myself, my mind could create crazy scenarios of reasons why she had survived somehow - like it was all a conspiracy theory - like there was still hope. Even after SEEING her body...twice, I would have to continuously remind myself. I figured that my struggle in this was my mind's way of forcing me into reality and was a normal part of grieving...or was it?
My Jesus Reality.
Although coming to reality with losing a loved one is a normal part of grieving, I have to think that part of my denial was that I know she's not dead. There was something that really did not sit right with me when I would hear those words. I mean really, she's not gone. She's not here, but she's not dead. I believe she's more alive than I have ever imagined. In fact, I could go as far to say that her leaving here is more like being raised to life than dying. No wonder I could not accept it. Everything I know about life and death and Jesus and the gospel - everything that matters points to the fact that she is, in fact, alive.
I won't see her again here on earth, but she exists in the place I am going. I know someone very well who is physically with Jesus. Think about that for a minute. This is a picture that someone painted for me a couple weeks ago and I cannot let it go.
With my earthly eyes, my mom is dead. She's gone. I won't see her again. I can dwell on that and be depressed and feel sorry for myself and cry and miss her and feel cheated. And although all those feelings are real, I can't help but joy in the fact that the person that I had such a deep connection with and am alike in so many ways; the person who raised me and showed me so much in this life is with Jesus right now, living right now. In a different dimension that I know nearly nothing of, she is with Him.
I am beginning to retrain my thoughts. "She's not dead. She's not dead. She's not dead." She's just graduated from this place. She's with the Father at the same time I am praying to Him. She's dancing and singing at the same time I am coaching and working. She's with Him, and He is with me. So, in a sense, she's not gone at all. If I put my gaze on the realities of this earth, which are barely realities at all, there's not a lot of meaning and it's all a struggle and a mess. But if I can keep my gaze on Jesus, I will find more and more of heaven on earth and that there is much life to be lived with Him in the present. This earth and everything in it is hopeless, but add Jesus to the equation and you'll find hope and meaning and grace to not only get through it, but to thrive in it. Thank you Jesus!
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