When I was little, for special occasions my mom used to bring out a beautiful, sparkly glass jar that had a silver lid and silver spoon and she'd put her homemade preserves in it. I remember asking her when I was about five years old if I could have it when she died, and she said yes. After I asked, I was immediately horrified to think she would die one day and I broke down in tears and she comforted me.
So, why am I thinking about that tonight? I was tucking Lanie into bed one night recently and she was admiring my sweater. It's a Christmas cardigan that is black with sparkly silver threaded accents along the cuff and closure. It's also bursting with beaded Christmas trees, fancy presents and snowflakes (or stars). It's your typical holiday wear, and appropriate to wear for gift shopping and cookie baking. Lanie said, "Mom, when you outgrow your sweater and I'm bigger, can I have it?"
I was glad she didn't ask me for it if I died! I smiled, hoping I wouldn't outgrow this sweater for reasons that have nothing to do with the sweater. "Sure, babe," I said.
Then she quieted down. "I hope I die when you die," she said. "I hope I'm not a mom when you die. I just hope we die together."
"Oh, honey," I said. So young to think these serious things.
She thought some more. "I hope I'm not little when you die. I wouldn't talk to anyone."
"Why wouldn't you talk to anyone?" I asked.
"Because I'd just want you." She started crying hard, and I held her close.
"It would be ok," I told her and rubbed her back. "Because I would be in heaven waiting for you. And one day you would join me and we'd be together forever. Don't be sad. Don't cry. It'll be ok." I talked to her about God's promises, how he doesn't lie. And we held each other close until there was silence. And we savored the silence.
It chokes me up. I'd had a similar conversation with her when she was three. And we sat together in bed, the two of us just sobbing because we'd miss each other so much and we loved each other so much. And I think of the love God had for his son, and how he sent him here to die for us--because he loves us so much too.
It chokes me up. How great that love is!
So, why am I thinking about that tonight? I was tucking Lanie into bed one night recently and she was admiring my sweater. It's a Christmas cardigan that is black with sparkly silver threaded accents along the cuff and closure. It's also bursting with beaded Christmas trees, fancy presents and snowflakes (or stars). It's your typical holiday wear, and appropriate to wear for gift shopping and cookie baking. Lanie said, "Mom, when you outgrow your sweater and I'm bigger, can I have it?"
I was glad she didn't ask me for it if I died! I smiled, hoping I wouldn't outgrow this sweater for reasons that have nothing to do with the sweater. "Sure, babe," I said.
Then she quieted down. "I hope I die when you die," she said. "I hope I'm not a mom when you die. I just hope we die together."
"Oh, honey," I said. So young to think these serious things.
She thought some more. "I hope I'm not little when you die. I wouldn't talk to anyone."
"Why wouldn't you talk to anyone?" I asked.
"Because I'd just want you." She started crying hard, and I held her close.
"It would be ok," I told her and rubbed her back. "Because I would be in heaven waiting for you. And one day you would join me and we'd be together forever. Don't be sad. Don't cry. It'll be ok." I talked to her about God's promises, how he doesn't lie. And we held each other close until there was silence. And we savored the silence.
It chokes me up. I'd had a similar conversation with her when she was three. And we sat together in bed, the two of us just sobbing because we'd miss each other so much and we loved each other so much. And I think of the love God had for his son, and how he sent him here to die for us--because he loves us so much too.
It chokes me up. How great that love is!