May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face, and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
-Irish Blessing

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Christmas in Heaven

As I sit here, I wonder what Christmas is like in heaven.  Even on a "good year" for me, it can be sad and emotional.  There is always a longing to spend one holiday with my son, to see his face one more time, to inhale his sweet baby scent or touch his smooth warm skin again. We comfort ourselves with a beautiful image of heaven and our loved ones there.  But what is it like for them?  Is it possible that in the place of heaven where there is no pain, disease or hurt that maybe, just maybe, on days like Christmas our loved ones miss us?  That as they watch us from afar their arms long for us as much as ours do for them?  That as they watch all the family gather, they feel isolated and alone?  It is possible to feel completely alone in a crowded room, so why not in Heaven?

I haven't bought Wyatt's Christmas present yet, I don't like to do so myself.  First, because he's a boy and with three girls at home and myself growing up in girl-land, I am kind of out of tune with what little boys might like.  So I like my husband's opinion.  I also like the feeling of us all picking something out together, a true sense of cooperation for the most worthy of reasons.  It is never something expensive, something little that can sit by his graveside and remind us year to year what he probably would have been like and how he might have changed.  Rarely, these toys disappear, I like to imagine some little boy visiting a his own lost loved one could not resist and loved Wyatt's toy just like he would have. We will take him a Christmas tree with brand spankin' new lights this year, battery powered  LEDs which should last quite a while and light him up for the world to see.  It is a fond memory from year to year, even when the short trek from the road to his grave is perilously piled with fresh white snow, to see his little tree glowing brightly in the darkness, the love of family reflected in lights.

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