Sometimes life can seem random, like there is no rhyme or reason to what happens or when things happen. I'd like to share memories that still help me when I think of them, to know that I am not alone, that I am loved, and that there is more to life, than just what we see.
What I am about to share next will seem like the opposite of what I just shared—but read on, and you will see what I mean.
My dad had a stroke 5 years before he died; it left my dad without the power of speech. I remember my son Sean told me that he missed hearing his Papa's voice, and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to remember what his Papa's voice sounded like. (Sean didn't have to be afraid of that—4 years after my dad died, Sean passed. Sean is hearing his Papa's voice in heaven.)
Not quite 3 years before my dad died, my youngest child was born. She was my parents' youngest grandchild. When our sweetness was just over 2 years old, we went to visit my parents. My sweet girl was a busy, busy, busy, 2-year-old, never sitting down, always moving. On this visit, she climbed up into her Papa's lap, and stayed there hugging him, for the next 45 minutes. At the time, I was stupefied as to what was happening. The next day, my dad had another massive stroke, and spent the next 6 months in the hospital until he died.
I still cry when I remember our precious little girl, crawling up into my dad's lap and hugging him. It was the last hug between them. How did this tiny little girl know this would be the last time, she would be with her Papa? How did she know to embrace him and the moment?
I have many questions like that: How do birds know to fly south for the winter? How do bears know to hibernate in the winter. Yes—I know the scientific explanation, but someone had to design the birds to have those homing instincts, and someone had to design bears' bodies to go into hibernation.
Scripture tells us that God takes care of the birds of the air, and we are worth much more to God. God loves us; He cares for us. He has prepared a place for us.
Every time, I go to a funeral, and see the body, I am reminded once again, that our bodies house our spirits. When the spirit is gone, the person is gone, even though the body remains.
Sometimes—life seems random, like a big cosmic accident, and then sometimes—something happens—and it reminds us that we are not alone, that we are loved, and that there is a place we are all heading towards—a place I call home. May we be encouraged!!
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