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Rough Life

Precious

What the . . . ?

Helping

Pitiful

Finding Comfort in Grief

Today I attended my mothers funeral. It took place at a church my mother never attended. For years I have been praying for God to put someone in the lives of my nephews to lead them to Him. I found out that my nephews attend this church at the insistence of my mother.

I greatly appreciate the church for being in my nephews lives, showing them the way and offering their assistance. However this "going home" service, as they called it, was somewhat empty for me. I found no comfort in the scriptures the pastor read nor the message he conveyed. Which makes me wonder how comforted could my young nephews feel? 

I was surprised when the pastor said he had visited my mother the day before she died. He had gone to discuss getting my nephews baptized. She had been feeling badly for some time and said she wanted to wait until she felt well enough to come to church for their baptism. While he was there, he asked my mother about her salvation. She told him she had been saved as a little girl and she was at peace with God; that she knew she would see her Father in heaven. 

Knowing that I will see her there gives me comfort.

Andy

I consistently have a dream about the same guy. I've been having this dream for so long, I can't remember when it started. It always seems to take place at my maternal grandparents house (somewhat) and he is right next door. Always so close. And I'm watching him constantly. From the window. From the yard. It seems his house is made of glass as I can always see him. Day or night. We know each other and I long for him as I watch. It's surprising when he wants to be with me too. He tucks away notes for me when I'm away and when I come back, I find them all piled up like he was counting the days until my return. When we are together happiness abounds. And then somehow . . . . I've returned again. Where I've been or how long I've been gone, I'm not sure. Each time I wonder how it could be that I forgot about him while I was away. And every time, as I check the hiding place for notes, I hold my breath . . . . Will there be any? When I see him, I wonder . . . . Is he still mine? And there are. And he is. Every time. And our time together is amazing.
The image in my dream is a guy I once knew, but I don't think it's really Andy. I'm pretty sure it's Jesus.