As I write, I am waiting for a phone call from a dear friend whose doctor has discovered a possible tumor. This, after she has weathered – always with faith and with a calm spirit – a series of calamities in her life, including the death of her husband. How does one face a fear for her own survival – at best, a fear of the process she may now be facing – after the battering she has already received?
There is no response that is adequate, other than a simple lying down and whimpering. It is probably not what she will do – she has again demonstrated both strength and optimism as she has shared her early news with me – but that is, I think, what I would do.
And yet, this morning, as I prayed, I felt again a longing – this is a feeling my daughter has often experienced and shared with me, but it was a foreign idea the first time I heard of it – a longing, a homesickness, for Heaven. A growing recognition that this life is indeed all too short – my friend keeps saying, “How did we get here so quickly? What has happened to our youth (we were 25 and 26 when we first met)? How did my 49 year old marriage turn so quickly into widowhood?“
These are good questions, and they are the questions that all people in their 60’s and beyond begin to contemplate. Only arriving at this time in life convinces each one of what he/she has heard – the time goes so quickly – before you know it, your children are grown and then you find that you are aging. Suddenly, the skin is thin and your arms resemble your mother’s, marred with bruises that you don’t even remember receiving. You come to the realization that the pain you feel each morning is not caused by a bad mattress, but by a bad back, and that it will always be there. You begin to doubt your own memory, and then you notice that your reaction time in driving is insufficient and so you begin to drive more slowly and endure the impatience of younger drivers who step on it as they pass you, leaving you to watch their self-righteous exhaust.
When I was young, I was bothered by being around old people, because I thought surely they would be envious of my youth. So, here I am: am I envious? I wish I had the energy, certainly the smooth skin, the agility. But I do not envy their place on the path, for I know that it will be filled with unexpected twists and turns and that, if they are fortunate, they too will arrive at “old age,” more quickly than they can imagine, and with a body that will cause them worry. I would not want to have to go back to start – I think reincarnation would be a terrible blow. What if the light at the end of the tunnel — that light that so many with near death experiences have described — is really the light of the delivery room and the tunnel, the birth passage? No wonder a new born shrieks: do I really have to do this again?
No, so much more appealing is the idea that we can leave behind these flawed bodies and receive a new, resurrected, perfect one to spend in eternity with Christ. The idea of being able to see Him with my own new eyes, to be physically in His presence at last.
I believe it will be like being in love is, when you first fall: shortness of breath, extreme desire to be in the same space as that person, finding his every glance exhilarating. That is what it will be like to be in Heaven with Him. And how can I believe such a thing is possible? Because He himself promised the thief on the cross: “Today you will be in paradise with me.” He told the disciples, “In my Father’s house are many mansions . . . I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2). He was describing a real world. And why not? Wouldn’t earth be an imitation of what already was?
So, today, I am feeling more aware of the purpose of this life, and the winding down of its physical and mental faculties, and not finding that a fearful thought. I look forward to shedding this body that is becoming less reliable and more painful. I look forward to the vibrancy of youth returning. I look forward most of all to being a place where at long last, I am involved in the perfect love relationship.
“I would not want to have to go back to start – I think reincarnation would be a terrible blow. What if the light at the end of the tunnel — that light that so many with near death experiences have described — is really the light of the delivery room and the tunnel, the birth passage? No wonder a new born shrieks: do I really have to do this again?” –made me chuckle. I could so relate to this one, as I do all of these blogs you write, Sue. The opening was heavy and then that lighter note did help so much . . .and from there that sweet beatific vision! Gracias, as always!
Let me try again, as the quick comment wasn’t nearly adequate–and I’m not sure what I wrote at first got through! The opening thoughts/realities of this month’s blog were serious and heavy, so it was a relief when you made me laugh, with the idea that baby being born seeing that bright light is thinking “do I have to do this all over again?” And then to move from there to the contrasting and beatific vision of heaven you shared– and the Scripture verses that back it up.
Very encouraging and beautiful, Sue. Gracias, my friend!