I Don’t Live There

There is a grave site, with a marker and bench, near a large oak tree that belongs to my seven year old daughter, Carly. I visit there some holidays, but I don’t live there. On Mothers’ Day, I noticed that I needed to buy her new fake flowers, as funny as that sounds. They offer many varieties and I can find vibrantly colored ones that represent her personality to a tee. It has been quite a while since I sat there and watched the flowers dance in the wind. They almost always greet me in that manner.

She was, by all measures… a miracle! This was acknowledged by the medical community. Once I took her to have her teeth cleaned and the dentist proudly informed the hygienist, “You are seated in the presence of a miracle.” Another time a physician at Wolfson’s Children’s Hospital ER asked permission to introduce her to other personnel,”…because I have never met a child with Trisomy 18 that was this old.”

Her life was a gift to me, and to so many others. To be entrusted with the entire life span of another human being is a high calling and privilege. I get to introduce her to complete strangers on any given day, in the course of ordinary conversations, because she is a part of me. I loved her with my whole heart. I still do. She remains a source of great joy.

Carly’s granite marker is bordered in gold paint. There is an angel, or cherub, kneeling with the inscription: A JOY A BLESSING & MIRACLE. Everything about the tribute, name and dates, are an accurate portrayal of what transpired in her life, and in mine. This marker is a reflection of actual events from my timeline. I visit, but I don’t live there. Neither does Carly.

I described in my blog, How Carly Moved to Heaven, feeling the unexpected sensation of Christmas morning within 30 minutes of her passing. From the last moment of her last breath she has been 100% healed and restored. She lives in a realm of wonder, excitement, perfect love and glory that, “No eye has seen. No ear has heard and no mind can conceive (1 Cor 2:9).” She is more exuberant, more loved, more cared for than she ever could have been on this earth. She is more alive than you and me!

When you cut your finger, your body immediately begins the process of fighting off infection and mending itself. The blood coagulates and damaged blood vessels are repaired. Infection-fighting white blood cells attack any germs that may have gotten into the wound. Eventually new skin will close the tear and a scar may remain. The fascinating characteristic of a scar is that it marks where an “breach” once existed, but there is zero pain. You can touch it and put pressure on it, but you will not feel any discomfort. I am convinced that many emotional upheavals can also be reimagined similarly.

Everyone experiences trials, trauma, and loss. This is the human condition. I don’t know the particular devastations that are reflective of your lifespan. However, I know that forgiveness and grief are paths that (eventually) lead to a new normal that incorporates peace. I have experienced that in real time. We don’t have to cozy up to one of our timeline markers and set up residence. My heart hurts when I hear someone speak with palatable vitriol or fear about a job loss, death, divorce, betrayal, violation and then you realize….that was 15, or 30 years ago! We will always miss ones who live in heaven, but we don’t have to define our future by a past loss.

I hope that if you are stuck with any emotional breach that needs closure that God Himself will reveal it and then heal it. I pray that you will allow Him to take it away and replace it with restoration, peace, joy, kindness, gentleness and so much more. Emotional scars, as with their physical counterparts, should be able to be touched without continually causing us pain.

^” And everything I’ve taught you is so that the peace which is in me will be in you and will give you great confidence as you rest in me. For in this unbelieving world you will experience trouble and sorrows, but you must be courageous, for I have conquered the world!” John 16:33