We live in a beautiful part of the world. Even with our rain and our mist I love it here. I didn’t always. Actually, I still don’t always. But mostly I do. Still I don’t know if it feels like “home”. But then again I’m not sure anywhere feels like home. I was born in MT, moved to TX when I was two, moved to CO when I was 21 and now I’ve lived in WA as long as I lived in CO. So what place would I call home?
“We are reaching for the future, we are reaching for the past. And no matter what we have we reach for more. We are desperate to discover, what is just beyond our grasp, but maybe that’s what heaven is for.” – Carolyn Arends
That’s a song from my past, I listen to it and I’m right back there. I love it still. Because sometimes there’s this aching for something that feels like it will never go away, and I think that’s the part of my soul that is the spark of Divine Light that is the Breath of God that is given to each of us. That spark that desperately wants to be reconnected with the Whole. With the Fire. And that’s not going to happen until heaven. So there is a pulling, a yearning, a desire for completeness that isn’t going to happen here.
I’ve been thinking a lot about our first referral, the baby who died. I wonder if he’s in heaven with his Mother or if she’s still here on earth. I ask God to tell my Grandma Thelma to hold him and introduce him to D, his little would-be cousin and to C, his would-be uncle. I imagine my husband’s beloved grandma fighting with Grandma Thelma over whose turn it is to hold him. I imagine them meeting members of his family, his own grandma maybe, so there are three of them fighting over him. I doubt this view of heaven is a theological correct one but I don’t really care. I think heaven is a bit outside a human’s mind to grasp anyway so any picture we come up with isn’t likely to be accurate. So I’ll hold to mine for now.
Life seems so fragile to me lately.