Last week I wrote about the children lost in the sudden flood in Texas and how my heart aches for their parents. I vividly remember the gut-wrenching pain and the horror I felt at the realization I would never see my daughter in this world again. And I was frightened at the thought of getting farther and farther away from her as time passed. It seemed like I was walking through a tunnel that kept getting narrower and darker as I went along, and there was no turning back.
It took me a few years for my perspective to change. To think of the passage of time as drawing me closer to the day I see her again. Getting nearer, not farther away. To envision the tunnel opening up onto a pathway with a beautiful sunrise making it brighter and brighter. The path isn’t always easy, but I’m not alone on it. And there’s a glorious destination at the end.
I just returned from a long weekend visiting my brother and sister-in-law in Memphis. I also got to see several dear friends from my school days and spend a day with several hundred cousins at an annual camp meeting. These visits are both soul-renewing and filled with nostalgia. Conversations often begin with “remember when.” We reminisce about loved ones no longer with us. Marvel at how much the children have grown. And delight over the new grandbabies born since last year. My brother and I attended a church service at Camp Meeting where we sing songs from a hymnal first published in 1923. Everyone knows all the words by heart. I love these traditions.
I had a long, solo drive up and back and I listened to a lot of music to keep me company. Driving alone I can sing as loud as I want and repeat the song if I miss a note or haven’t quite got the harmony right. My playlist is eclectic but contains many old gospel tunes and hymns like the ones sung at camp meeting. Amazing Grace is one of my favorites, especially the last verse:
When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun;
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’ve first begun.
What a perfect encapsulation of Eternity. Not just the idea of endless time. But we will be reflecting the radiance of God Himself. The fears and worries and ills and grief that darken our lives here on Earth will be wiped away. Not just behind us. Erased. I picture my daughter, my parents, friends and loved ones, and all the saints glowing with an inner light of grace.
I hope we sing some of the old hymns in Heaven. (I hope I have a better singing voice there, too.) I hope Heaven is like a homecoming, camp meeting, and revival all rolled into one, with dinner on the grounds and glory in the air.
And I can’t wait to stand amazed at everyone shining bright in the glow of God’s grace.
Laura
A Light for My Path 
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