This world is not my home. On a daily basis that slips away from me.
When schooling gets overwhelming, when a child cries in the night burning with fever, when my home looks like the aftermath of a tornado five minutes after a day of cleaning. I was never supposed to be comfortable here, but I try so hard.
The funny thing is, when I am reminded of this and I let go of the tight reign I attempt to have on my life, I feel so free. I'm free for those short moments of trust..... and then the whispers from the enemy break through. The father of lies tries to tell me hang on. Hang on to my children with all my might, hang on to my husband as tight as I can, hang on to my youth at all costs, just cling to things.
Yesterday my Mother-in-law's younger sister died in a car wreck. Her 2 year old granddaughter was in the car with her and is right now fighting for her life after undergoing brain surgery. I can't help but think about the fact that yesterday morning she was having breakfast, sipping her coffee, having no idea she only had a few hours left on this earth. I can't help but look at my kids and project all that pain and suffering on to something that may happen to them.
I cling. And it hurts.
Driving to the movie store, thinking through the fact that Aunt Amy was driving just like this before her life ended (and beginning to panic), my children start talking about heaven. They start talking about streets of gold, discussing amongst themselves what a gate of pearl would look like and who they will get to see when they get there. My daughter wants very much to meet Laura Ingalls, my son....our dog that died.
The breath comes back. I am reminded. This world is not my home. Death is not the end, but a beginning of something so much more beautiful than all I could ask or imagine.
My grip loosens. A little. Praying for it to loosen it's grip even more.