A few times a year our family makes a trip to the cemetery. We go to visit the tombstone of our child Sebastian who died when I was 13 weeks pregnant, and to remember all three of our babies waiting for us in heaven. We bring flowers and pinwheels. We say a prayer together, asking for the intercession of our little saints to help us love God better and hoping that one day we will all be together in heaven. One of my favorite parts in the book "Heaven is for Real," is when the young boy who went to heaven saw his sister that he never knew he had. She was a sister that his mother had miscarried. The little boy described his sister so beautifully, and it fills my heart with longing to see what my children in heaven will look like. Will one of them be a little girl? Will one have curly hair like their daddy had, or red like mine?
My children, both in heaven and on earth, have taught me so much about death and the purpose of life. When we go to the cemetery, I tend to get lost in grief. My boys, however, do not. After we pray together, they run off and play. According to them, there is life to be lived and football to be played, even in a cemetery. At first that used to bother me. I'd want them to grieve with me and be a little more sombre. But, actually, I think my children have it all right and I all wrong. Why should we be sombre? Sebastian, Christian, and Frances are celebrating with Christ. They've finished the race and won the prize; those of us still left on earth have not. We still have some running to do, and we must run as if to win. If we sit in our grief and bitterly wish life was different we may find that we have forfeited the prize of heaven in the end. Life must go on for those of us still here on earth. A joyful life of service and glorying the Lord so that we can celebrate in heaven one day too. Getting lost in grief is losing opportunities to love God and others. My children love God better playing football than I do sitting in despair. These are the thoughts that passed through my mind as I sat on a bench in the cemetery... I sat nursing my new baby, sitting near my buried babies, and watching my grown-up babies play football with their daddy. It felt a bit odd, and perhaps we looked a bit strange, but hopefully it was somehow pleasing to the Lord. After all, this is our family, this is real life, and life must go on. So many bittersweet lessons have I learned at the cemetery...
Thank you, Jesus, for all of my children--those with you and those still with me--who are guiding my heart daily closer to Yours. Please give my little saints a big hug for me today.
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