How far is Heaven ?

I text my grandmother last night. I text her to send her the picture that you see here. The picture of my son playing with his stuffed dog, Biscuit. Seems pretty insignificant, right ? Yeah, I thought so too.

Last Thanksgiving 2018 is one I will probably never forget. I always try to use Thanksgiving as a day to really really reflect on what I’m truly grateful for. Since becoming a wife and mom, it seems that list just keeps growing; and it feels almost overwhelming at times to really think about everything that I am blessed to have in this life.

Well, the day before Thanksgiving 2018 I received a call from my father that my grandfather wasn’t doing well. My grandpa had fought his entire adult-life against diabetes and, more recently, had received a diagnosis of Leukemia. When I first heard that my grandpa had cancer, I was terrified, however, I was reassured that his was in the early stages and seemed to be pretty manageable with some of the less aggressive treatments. Well, time when on and the disease progressed.

Looking back, my paternal grandparents have never lived in the same state as me; and although the visits were few and far between, some of my fondest childhood memories include my grandma Linda and grandpa Bill. We took various vacations out to Montana, the Atlantic Ocean, they visited us here in the Midwest, and more recently as an adult, my husband and I met them out in Las Vegas. I have always, and will continue to always, cherish my memories with them.

The day before Thanksgiving 2018, my dad called me to let me know that grandpa wasn’t doing well and he planned to fly on the next flight out to be with him. After hanging up the phone, it really took me a minute to wrap my head around what this meant and all of its possibilities.

Up until this point, I had been so fortunate to have all 4 of my grandparents alive and well. (Just 1 more thing to be thankful for on Thanksgiving). So having a grandparent that seemed to be seriously ill was unchartered territory for me. My first response of course, was prayer. Say a prayer. I, immediately, did just that. And I have to be honest. I didn’t pray for a miracle. I didn’t pray that miraculously my grandfather would be healed. I prayed for peace. I prayed that my Heavenly Father would wrap his arms around me, my family, my grandma, but mostly, my grandpa.

Late Thanksgiving night, nearly into the following morning, I received the dreaded confirmation texts and calls that my grandpa had passed. The days to follow were quite difficult. I would be ok, and then just randomly start to cry. However, I continued to find comfort in prayer. My grandfather was a very faithful man and so I continued to pray that God would be so proud to welcome him into His kingdom and that He would continue to watch over all of us here on Earth, so that we could heal and grieve the way that we needed to.

The following Sunday at church was exactly what I needed. During most of worship, I held my husband’s arm and cried. Sobbed, really.

Most often, prior to the message being given on Sunday mornings, our Pastor prays that God may use him as a vessel; that it really be His words that are delivered; that we may hear the message that He has especially for us. During the service that morning, I felt just that. I felt a validation that, when thinking about it, still makes me so emotional.

While our Pastor was preaching the sermon, it seemed that he kept looking at me. Now, he always seems to do a really good job of engaging the crowd and looking at everyone while he talks, but this Sunday in particular, I really felt like he was looking at me. When I thought about the prayer that we pray, and I continued to get the feeling that he kept looking right at me, I swear I heard, “Brittney, I see you. I hear your prayers; I hear you.”

I text my grandmother last night. I text her to send her the picture of my son with Biscuit. Biscuit is a stuffed animal that my grandpa Bill picked out for Brooks prior to him passing. I wanted to text her to let her know that there are small, subtle ways that we’re remembering our beloved Papa. Her response, “..... tomorrow is his birthday....” Now, I may be admitting that I’m a terrible granddaughter, but I had NO CLUE that it was his birthday today. Today, March 6 is my grandpa’s birthday, and last night my son was rolling around on the floor,

playing with the sweet little puppy that he gifted to us.

Some people may not think this is a big deal. Some may think that my pastor looking through the crowd at me (or me imagining that) or my son playing with a stuffed animal from our late grandfather the night before his birthday, is just coincidence. That’s only part of the beauty of being able to call myself a Christian. I don’t believe that those sorts of things are coincidence. I believe that is a way for me to feel comfort knowing that my grandpa is exactly where he is supposed to be seated and that I am blessed enough to know that where that is, isn’t all that far away.

Momma’s as we all grieve the loss of our loved ones, may we always remember that although they’re far, they aren’t too far; and may you, as I have, receive the validation from Heaven that you're searching for.

Until next time...

Your,

(thankful) Christian Momma