It’s in those peaceful, joyful moments that I feel her the most…and miss her the most.
We FINALLY got the pool set up this week. We have this monstrosity of an aboveground pool. It’s not that hard to set up (especially when you leave it up all winter, as I did), but it needs a solid three hours of cleaning every summer, not to mention the four hundred pounds of salt (no exaggeration) that need to be purchased, hauled over to the pool, and dumped into it. It’s a large chore.
Once it’s finished, it’s so worth it. The kids LOVE to swim, and not to have to lug all the swim necessities for five children to a local pool (and pay the cost) is priceless. Their first days in the pool each summer are my favorite. They are so giddy with the “new” pool that they play in it happily – without arguing – for long periods of time (that’s “Mom-speak” for 15 minutes).
Two nights ago was their first night in the pool. The oldest four were happily swimming and laughing together. My youngest, having deemed the pool “too cold” was sitting happily (and still!) on my lap as we watched his siblings frolic in the crystal clear water. There was a lovely breeze and the temperature felt perfect. It truly felt as though all was right with the world in those few moments. It was fifteen minutes of peace, joy, and…sadness because all will never be right in my world – in this world.
I don’t mean to be dramatic; it’s just my truth. And it’s the moments I cherish the most that I miss her the greatest. It’s hard not to wonder…who would she be? how would she fit into this crazy family? what would she love? how would it be to watch ALL SIX of them frolic in that carefree water together? That’s one of my greatest sorrows and my greatest hopes for heaven. My heart will not feel whole again until I see them all together. It’s my overriding prayer.
I woke up yesterday morning with the fear that I would not recognize Kate when I saw her again. My image of heaven these past years has been walking toward Jesus who has one hand extended toward me and one arm holding my Kate. I knew her immediately as my sweet baby girl. But lately the image has changed, and Jesus is holding the hand of a little young lady. I can’t help but wonder if I’m creating this image as I imagine Kate as an eight year old, or if she is aging in heaven as she would on earth. It causes mixed emotions to say the least.
I have to find rest in the FACT that my God is not a God of fear, but a God of hope and love. I have to hold on to the belief that Kate is His beloved as am I, and all will be perfect…someday. Here in this life, however, moments of perfection are few and far between. But as one dear friend suggested, maybe it’s in those times of stillness and peace that the veil lifts a bit and Kate sits beside me. Perhaps she is always close by but at those moments all is calm enough for me to really feel her closeness. It is certainly a comforting thought. One to hold onto until the next fifteen minutes of peace comes.
I love you, Kate.