Do you ever wonder what your loved ones in Heaven would think of what’s happening right now?
Scroll to the bottom of this post to watch a Facebook Live about this topic, and how I crawled out of a quarantine-induced funk.
I know you’ve been gone for a couple years now.
I look at that picture of us everyday.
You know, the one Grandpa gave me once you’d passed. You and I are looking at each other. Glee in both our eyes. You told me as you lay in your hospital bed I’ve always been the apple of your eye. And I know it. We even share a name.
I miss you everyday.
I think if I told my family, they might be surprised at how often I think about you. How often my heart is sucker-punched with the pangs of you’re-not-here.
And I often wonder, what would you say about what’s happening right now?
Our picture sits next to my kitchen sink. After finishing dinner dishes or making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I often stop and gaze.
I pause. I wonder.
What would you say about this time?
I think it all the time.
You’ve always been my compass. Somehow, you have the answers to everything. You follow Jesus. You lived a peace-filled and joyful life, despite many challenging circumstances that came your way.
You always know the right way to process things.
And so, Grandma, I write this to you in Heaven.
What do you think about what’s happening right now?
I’ve wished so many times I could call you. Dial your number that I still have memorized, and ask, “What do you make of all this?”
Oh how I wish I could talk to you.
I’d call you. Say hi.
Then, I’d pause. Trying not to make obvious just how badly I’m craving your wisdom. Just how lost and confused I feel.
I know, deep inside, that a few moments with you is what I need to be able to make it through this day.
I know what you’d say.
“Love people first. You are not in charge of deciding what’s right. You are in charge of loving others.”
You were always so good at living in grace, even in cruel and unfair situations. Even when you suffered things you didn’t deserve. Somehow, those injustices seemed to never touch your soul, to never fade your joy, to never harden your tender heart. Oh Grandma, teach me that art.
“People are going to keep on living. It’s not ours to worry about. We’re all shaped by our own experiences.”
You were so good at casting your cares on Him.
Control was not your crutch.
You leaned on Truth.
“We’re just going to be happy and flexible!”
I can still hear the sparkle pitch in your voice and see the delight in your eyes! The phrase that echoed through my childhood, whether I was a little girl, disappointed about getting the chocolate ice cream instead of my favorite vanilla, or a teenage girl, questioning my worthiness in my friend group.
Happy and flexible.
That was your mantra. When you were stuck in traffic. When you were disappointed. When life dealt a blow that would’ve brought others to their knees in a puddle of defeat and toxic negativity.
You would just keep going. You would keep loving. You would keep your eyes focused on Him.
You would keep living your life with the same grace and joy you did every other time things didn’t work out as you expected.
And so Grandma, I must sign off now. The kids are arguing about the next movie to watch and I need to boil water for mac ‘n cheese.
I’ll be waiting here until the next time I hear from you.
Until we meet again, and I see another stunning rainbow like the one you painted across the sky for Dad and I on the morning you died.
Until I hear your whisper in the corner of my dreams.
It might be tonight, it might be next week, but I know that’s our secret meeting place. I’ll see you there.
Do you ever wonder what your loved ones would think of the world right now? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments, on Facebook or on Instagram. And be sure to join the email list so you don’t miss a post, even if you’re not on social media.