Two years ago this week...

Two years ago this week, Mama took her last gasping, gurgling breath,

her 85 year old heart and lungs no longer able to pump the fluid out of her system.

Two years ago this week, Jesus stood up on His throne, clapped His hands with joy, 

tilted His head back and laughed with pleasure when she entered into His presence.

Two years ago this week,  Jesus cupped Mama's face in His hands and she looked into His fiery eyes of love for the first time.  

Those eyes in a flesh and blood Man there on the throne of heaven looked at my Mama and the voice that thunders with majesty and sounds like many waters told my Mama, "You're so beautiful!",

and for the first time in her life, my Mama had to really, truly believe that it was so, because He said it.

Two years ago this week, Mama danced and twirled and spun with delight and freedom and joy, 

set free from all sin and sickness and sadness and fear.

Two years ago this week, Mama who had seen more than her share of sorrow and sadness and struggle and disappointment and pain in this life, looked at the Lover of her soul and said, 

"It's true!  It's true!  It was worth it all to see You, to be here with You!   All of that struggle was just for a moment and now all of this glory of being with You forever and ever and ever,
it was worth it, it was worth it all!"

I still miss her.

The grief still hits at random moments.

Last Sunday afternoon in the Winco grocery store,

 a little white haired lady walked toward me pushing her grocery cart.

Her eyes had that same overwhelmed, confused look, 

that Mama used to get in her last years whenever we went to that overcrowded store.

Right there, standing by the cooler filled with Tillamook cheese, 

I was tempted to hug a complete stranger, because I saw Mama in her.

I miss my Mama.

But never once, not even for a second, would I want her back here.

Not now that she's tasted and seen pure wholeness, pure happiness, pure love, pure joy.

Not now that she's seen Him.

Sometimes I wonder what our resurrected, eternal bodies will look like.

Jesus is the firstborn from the dead, the Only One who already has His resurrected body.

It looked different enough that some of His close followers didn't recognize Him at first.

When I go by the cemetery where Mama is buried,  sometimes it bothers me, her body there in the cold ground, wearing the fusia colored sweater that my sister had bought her for Christmas,
just the month before.

I know when Jesus comes back, the dead in Christ will rise first, their resurrected bodies coming up out of the grave to meet their eternal spirits that are already with Him.

If I had one request, I'd ask Jesus to keep my Mama's hair pure white and soft as cotton.

Two years ago this week, my Mama went to heaven.

I miss my Mama.

Sometimes I still cry.

Still following,