I have had family and friends experience loss this month. It is hard.
I felt the weight of it while washing dishes last night—thoughts and memories flooding in. How can I still be here, doing something so mundane, with the kids chatting in the background like nothing has happened, while another family’s world has been turned upside down? I have a hard time staying composed at funerals. I think of those left behind, and the tears just won’t stop coming. I’ve lost several friends younger than me, watched family members and mentors finish their earthly race. The older I get, the more I see loved ones leave this world, and each time, the ache hits hard.
But in that sadness, I often think of a moment years ago when my husband’s dear Grandma passed away. In the difficult time of making decisions for the funeral, one of her granddaughter’s picked out a beautiful, soft purple coffin, and later as we stood in line at the church, my little Susie, just five years old at the time, looked at the coffin and said with a bright, certain smile, “This is perfect, Mom. Great Grandma is in a beautiful purple suitcase for Jesus to take her home to heaven in.”
And now I am crying all over again. Such childlike faith. Simple, fresh, honest and cheerful because she knows; we grieve, but not without hope. Death is not the end for those in Christ. Jesus Himself walked this road before us, suffering and dying so that we would have life beyond the grave. In this Lenten season, as we reflect on His journey to the cross, we also look forward—to the empty tomb, to the promise fulfilled, to the gift of resurrection.
“Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.'” —John 11:25
Spring is coming. I can hear it standing outside our pastures and listening to the flocks of birds returning; see the tiny buds form on trees and hints of green in the grass. The earth, cold and barren, will soon burst into new life. So it is with us. Our bodies will rest in the grave for a time, but they are only waiting—waiting for the day when Christ returns and makes all things new.
Until then, we love, we serve, and we live in the quiet confidence that our true home is with Him.
In Peace,
Leah
