i saw heaven
I saw heaven yesterday.
A bride dressed in white, holding hands with a frail, dying woman in a wheel chair, being pushed by a man that has been redeemed by God.
I caught a glimpse of heaven yesterday.
The strength of my momma's hands has been something I have admired for as long as I can remember. Her hands have worked long, excruciating hours. Her hands raw and rough. Her hands provided every earthly thing Loretta and I had. As the last few months have stolen her breath, slowly but surely, her hands have grown weak and much more soft than my memory serves.
Since day one of life, we have joked with Loretta that she is an alien. While she doesn't have small, green lights shining from the end of her digits, her fingers and her toes are very long and skinny. Her hands were the first I held as we cried over the death of our grandma Bram and continued holding as we lost our big sister, our second momma, Jennie. And in this season, we hold hands especially tight. Each silent squeeze we understand, at an incomprehensible deep level, exactly what each other are thinking and feeling. Loretta's hands have provided a sense of strength. Loretta's hands have served and taught most of the compassion and tender love I understand today.
I saw heaven yesterday.
A bride dressed in white, holding hands with a frail, dying woman in a wheel chair, being pushed by a man that has been redeemed by God.
Momma's fiercely weak and gorgeous fingers interwoven with Loretta's slender, strong fingers. As they prepare to walk (and roll) to Loretta's new forever.
My father has returned to the alter, asked for forgiveness, and has been made new. Dad gave up "his place" next to Loretta to give my baby sister a memory she (and every other person sitting in that small Baptist church) will never forget, a memory I will never get to make. And for my dad's sacrifice, I am eternally grateful.
As as they came down the aisle, these lyrics were sang out:
Holy Spirit
You are welcome here.
Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere.
Your glory God is what our hearts long for.
To be overcome by your presence, Lord.
The presence of the Holy Spirit was thick in that sanctuary. She sat heavy in the room, welcoming hearts to be changed, to be softened, for tears to reign free, even in the strongest of men.
I saw my sister, the Bride, adorned in white, the Church, holding tight to the broken and hurting, pushed down the aisle by a man that has been changed, who's heart is being broken down, softened, and molded into a man of God.
I saw a man who looked at my sister how I've always dreamed a man would look at her through tear soaked eyes. I saw a groom who reminds me of God. Steady, reaonsable, willing to love unconditionally. I man who, when he asked my little sister for her hand, understood my family and our hurt, and signed up anyway.
I saw a church full of people moved by the Spirit. I saw a couple dozen pews filled with people who have been touched by the life of Zach, by Loretta, and by my momma.
I did not totally comprehend the gravity of that impact until we stood in the receiving line at the end of the ceremony.
One hundred and twenty people passed Zach and Loretta, giving hugs and handshakes. One hundred and twenty people bent down to my momma's wheelchair, tears in their eyes, whispering memories, thank yous, and goodbyes.
Mom's life has changed hundreds of hearts. It has changed dozens of hearts. The way she lived, the way she raised us to live, taught us to act and to treat people will continue to live on for generations.
I saw heaven yesterday.
And Momma will see it in a coming tomorrow.
A bride dressed in white, holding hands with a frail, dying woman in a wheel chair, being pushed by a man that has been redeemed by God.
I caught a glimpse of heaven yesterday.
The strength of my momma's hands has been something I have admired for as long as I can remember. Her hands have worked long, excruciating hours. Her hands raw and rough. Her hands provided every earthly thing Loretta and I had. As the last few months have stolen her breath, slowly but surely, her hands have grown weak and much more soft than my memory serves.
Since day one of life, we have joked with Loretta that she is an alien. While she doesn't have small, green lights shining from the end of her digits, her fingers and her toes are very long and skinny. Her hands were the first I held as we cried over the death of our grandma Bram and continued holding as we lost our big sister, our second momma, Jennie. And in this season, we hold hands especially tight. Each silent squeeze we understand, at an incomprehensible deep level, exactly what each other are thinking and feeling. Loretta's hands have provided a sense of strength. Loretta's hands have served and taught most of the compassion and tender love I understand today.
I saw heaven yesterday.
A bride dressed in white, holding hands with a frail, dying woman in a wheel chair, being pushed by a man that has been redeemed by God.
Momma's fiercely weak and gorgeous fingers interwoven with Loretta's slender, strong fingers. As they prepare to walk (and roll) to Loretta's new forever.
My father has returned to the alter, asked for forgiveness, and has been made new. Dad gave up "his place" next to Loretta to give my baby sister a memory she (and every other person sitting in that small Baptist church) will never forget, a memory I will never get to make. And for my dad's sacrifice, I am eternally grateful.
As as they came down the aisle, these lyrics were sang out:
Holy Spirit
You are welcome here.
Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere.
Your glory God is what our hearts long for.
To be overcome by your presence, Lord.
The presence of the Holy Spirit was thick in that sanctuary. She sat heavy in the room, welcoming hearts to be changed, to be softened, for tears to reign free, even in the strongest of men.
I saw my sister, the Bride, adorned in white, the Church, holding tight to the broken and hurting, pushed down the aisle by a man that has been changed, who's heart is being broken down, softened, and molded into a man of God.
I saw a man who looked at my sister how I've always dreamed a man would look at her through tear soaked eyes. I saw a groom who reminds me of God. Steady, reaonsable, willing to love unconditionally. I man who, when he asked my little sister for her hand, understood my family and our hurt, and signed up anyway.
I saw a church full of people moved by the Spirit. I saw a couple dozen pews filled with people who have been touched by the life of Zach, by Loretta, and by my momma.
I did not totally comprehend the gravity of that impact until we stood in the receiving line at the end of the ceremony.
One hundred and twenty people passed Zach and Loretta, giving hugs and handshakes. One hundred and twenty people bent down to my momma's wheelchair, tears in their eyes, whispering memories, thank yous, and goodbyes.
Mom's life has changed hundreds of hearts. It has changed dozens of hearts. The way she lived, the way she raised us to live, taught us to act and to treat people will continue to live on for generations.
I saw heaven yesterday.
And Momma will see it in a coming tomorrow.