Since our son Taylor’s Heaven-going journey, three years ago, I have had people frequently comment on my strength, often adding they would never make it through my journey. This statement tends to always make me uncomfortable because, while I want to appreciate the affirmation of what Christ is doing through me, I know I’m not strong. I tell them it’s all Jesus, but recently I asked the Lord to help me break this down simply to help them not live in fear of loss.
It’s actually very simple. I do nothing but decide, when I wake up, that I will trust my Creator and Savior. In every moment, I know I must intentionally keep my eyes on the hope of Heaven, remember my feet are on Earth, respecting my grief. It’s crucial I trust in two things. First I trust in Jesus’ power of His forgiveness for my sins and my son’s sins given at the cross. Second, to really live in joy, it’s imperative that I trust the power of His resurrection which provides an abundant life here and hope of eternity for all who believe. I like how my pastor put it so well last week, I must live my life in “Light of the Resurrection”. Recognizing this I have no fear of death or of living a life here without my son. As Paul put it so perfectly, “For me to live is Christ. To die is gain.”
Those who know me well, know there are many days I am not looking strong as I neglect my intentional plan and fear can grip me, especially fear for challenges my family members may be facing, especially my earth-bound children. Spending quiet time with God is the powering root to my trust and peace. Without it, I’m a pitifully weak basket case!
The Easter season after Taylor died, Bethany’s boyfriend died. I was agonizing in prayer over her pain, and the Holy Spirit very clearly spoke to my heart, “Carla, why can you so fully trust me to hold Taylor in Heaven, but you can’t seem to trust me with your children on Earth?”
I remember those words frequently as I pray for our three earth-bound children, but in order to not respond like a freaking-out crazy mom, I must intentionally believe each day that He meant what He said and will take care of my family on Earth. Fortunately, when I fail in this, He pats me on the back and says, “Let’s try this again…” So patient, is my Jesus.
On this third anniversary of our precious son’s passing, I am happy to say the routine of trust gets easier from my growing love for my Savior out of necessity of clinging to Him. I truly could not do this life without Him.
2 Corinthians 4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.