If We Were in Heaven [Poem-a-Day: 1]

I hope they will have lattes there,
In Heaven, I mean.
And if there are, I hope they have
The kind you always liked.
Pumpkin spice was our thing, remember?
It didn’t matter if I didn’t like them,
They were so much better
shared together.

If we were in Heaven
We wouldn’t have to wait in line
We’d stroll right up and order
Anytime.
If we were in Heaven
We’d walk in laughing.
Our lattes would be waiting,
Because we’re fully known.
We’d find the coziest pair of chairs,
With just the right temperature.
We’d cuddle up,
Warm ours hands on our mugs,
And talk.
We’d have so much to say,
And all the time to say it.
There’d be no need to shed a tear,
But healing ones would flow.

If we were in Heaven,
We’d have lattes together.
Jesus would sit with us,
He always did here too.

The End of a Journal

Today I finished a journal, an event I have eagerly anticipated. Almost since I could write I’ve kept a journal of “letters” to God/conversations with God. All the things I needed to process, hash out, cry through, and rejoice over has gone into these journals. I have shelves-full of them, and it’s incredible to brush my fingers along their spines and know the life and the Love I’ve found in those pages; the words that have been written into my soul.

I started my most recent journal right after one of the most life-rattling events I’ve experienced. The 250-something pages post are packed with heart-level stuff, both good and hard. I’ve been aching for this journal to finish so I can start new and fresh; hopefully seeing that crisp, autumnal breeze sweep over my life as well. I joked last week that I should write down all the hard things we’ve weathered in the last 6 months, but that it’d be too overwhelming. Ends up that, without even realizing it, that’s what my last page in my journal became. However, instead of being overwhelmed with the weight or depression of all that’s occurred, I was overcome by the Light and Grace in which the Father of Lights soaked my story.

This journal is past the 6 month mark and it feels thick in my left hand as I write this. Thicker than normal, probably because I feel in those pages the weight of what they hold.

We settled into Mom and Dad’s house, but our house on the market, waited, prayed, fought and doubted. It sold. We celebrated my birthday, Selah’s birthday, Paul’s birthday, (and the birthdays of many friends), our anniversary, Paul’s graduation, Father’s Day and Mother’s Day. We travelled 3 times, and spent 10 days house-sitting. Josh came home from college, and then returned. We dreamed lots, brainstormed often, settled sometimes, and saw the fruition of hard work and rest. We renovated and broke ground. We’ve weathered heartbreak, frustration, loss, grief, despair, leaky ceilings, moldy carpets, sweltering cars. We’ve also rejoiced, jumped up and down, cried with relief, and cried for no reason at all. We’ve laid face-down on the floor moaning over decisions and direction, and we’ve seen light around the next bend that says there’s still life ahead. We’ve been sick, tired, slandered, defamed, but we’ve also seen the return of Your children to freedom and life. We’ve been persecuted but not abandoned, struck down but not destroyed. “Our hearts ache, but we always have joy. We are poor, but we give spiritual riches to others. We own nothing, yet we have everything.” (2cor6:10)

And that’s all because of You. Any good, beauty, or light from these 6 months has all been You, and I know You won’t stop leading us on.