"Heaven is for Real"

I started and finished a new book yesterday—“Heaven is for Real” by Todd Burpo. When I began writing this entry yesterday, I felt as though I could only set it down long enough to write what I am about to say. I know it may seem bold to say but this book has changed my life and how I view eternity. Seriously.

I first heard of this book at River’s service. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting reading material recommendations at my daughter’s funeral but somehow, I managed to remember the information. A lady that had gone to the church I grew up in told me her husband, a typical reader of only the Bible, had found it to be compelling. She mentioned the reason for recommending it was because there was a section in it that specifically spoke to the topic of child loss—about a woman who had miscarried her child around 8 weeks. At the time, I thought to myself: How can I do anything but mourn? How can I ever read a book for pleasure? Or do anything for pleasure ever again? I’m so glad God kept that book title in my memory so I could find it on that last-minute trip to Target on Saturday night. And I’m so glad he pulled at my heart strings and encouraged me to read it yesterday.

As I began to read, I was pleased to find the book starting off with juicy details in the prologue. I didn’t have to wait to get to the “good stuff.” It was captivating. To put it briefly, this book is about a four year old boy who leaves his body during an emergency appendectomy and goes to Heaven. In his account of the experience, he talks of meeting God and Jesus and many others. To know the rest, you’ll just have to read it =)

I believe children who haven’t had the chance to know Jesus go straight to Heaven when they die. This is something that has really helped me through this experience and I take rest in knowing my River is resting in the arms of God. I believe firmly that this truth is what essentially drew me to this book. As I looked at the chapter titles, I saw the one titled, “Two Sisters.” My instinct told me it would be the chapter to discuss the little boy’s encounter with his mother’s miscarried baby during his visit to Heaven. I was right. Upon finishing that chapter, I come before you now truly changed.

After Spencer and I came home from the hospital, our pastor visited us. He was there for support and comfort. Before he left, I worked up the courage to tell him some personal feelings I had been having regarding my bittersweet view of Heaven. I know it seems strange to say that. After all we hear about Heaven, who could possibly have mixed feelings about it? I could and I did. Until yesterday.

I told my pastor, just as I have told Spencer, I was sort of afraid to go to Heaven. I was afraid to leave this earth and those I loved. I was afraid because, to date, I had never found anything in the Bible that could tell me for sure if I would have the same kind of relationships in Heaven as I did on earth. This concerned me greatly. I wanted to know if I would recognize my great-grandmother, my friend Steve. And most importantly, I wanted to know if I would recognize my daughter…and if she would know I was her Mommy…

It brought great pain to think of the possibility of my relationship with her being erased. I couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing it was my River who stood before me. The thought of seeing her as just another believer who made it to Heaven really bothered me. I know that Heaven is a wonderful place but all I have ever known is this life and this earth. I have come to cherish the depth of the relationships I have with my loved ones. Well, now I know the answer I have been looking for. And God spoke it through a four year old.

When this little boy was in Heaven, he met his great grandfather, a man who died years before he was even born. And he knew who he was. My eyes began to well with tears as I read about the joys they shared together. I was elated. They knew each other!

Then came the part that confirmed it. The little boy told his parents that while he was in Heaven, a little girl came to him and began hugging him. She hugged him for a long time. When he finally spoke to her, she revealed that she was his sister and that she had “died in Mommy’s tummy.” It was then I felt a peace wash over me. I began sobbing. Not out of sorrow though, out of pure thanks. I thanked God for answering my question. I thanked Him for making me feel worth answering, that my questions weren’t trivial or stupid. I asked Him to forgive me (again) for doubting Him. You see, last week I had a meltdown with God. For the first time in my life, I was actually angry enough to blame Him. The sad part about it is that I was blaming Him for something I did. My own stupid mistake and I was blaming Him. Spencer saw me at my worst. I mean, truly my worst. He witnessed the event that can be no better explained than: “The straw that broke the camel’s back”—The day I drove my in-laws’ stick shift Subaru Forester into my apartment building.

Take a moment to read that again. In fact, I’ll just make it east and copy and paste: I drove my in-laws’ stick shift Subaru Forester into my apartment building. Yep. Last Friday, Spencer and I were going to wash our van and their car while we had it for the weekend. He and I both felt confident I could pull it in to the lot. I started off beautifully—probably the best I ever have with a clutch. Spencer waved me in, giving me the thumbs up and then TERROR. I couldn’t stop. How I wished I could have killed the engine at that moment. I was begging, pleading with the car to stop. Nothing. What my right foot thought was the break…well, it was the clutch. I drove right over the rose bushes and right through the support beam that holds up my roof. Thankfully there are two of them and thankfully no one was hurt. Needless to say, I was mortified. Humiliated. Devastated. Ticked.

As soon as Spencer was able to back the car up out of the beam and I saw that the Subaru was virtually unscathed (a miracle in itself), I ran into the house and immediately began bawling my eyes out.

“I’ve ruined our lives…I’ve ruined everything!”

Spinning in my mind was the anticipated disappointment of my mother and father-in-law, the cost of the damage, Spencer’s disappointment in me. The disappointment in myself. I felt in that moment that my whole word had just come crashing down. I cried and asked Spencer why this happened to us…after all we’d been through.

Why did God let this happen? Why didn’t He whisper in my ear and tell me not to drive the car? Why, when He knew we couldn’t afford to pay for the damage? WHY?

I was so angry at first. I said things to God and about my Faith that I never thought would be in my thoughts, let alone pass my lips. I was lost and truly broken. After I had the chance to calm down and get a grip on things, I asked God to forgive me for the things I said. I didn’t mean all of them but I definitely still had questions that needed to be answered.

It was after I read that chapter in the book that I realized my need for God more than ever before. It wasn’t that He was punishing me, although I have to admit it crossed my mind several times. I didn’t even think I was being punished when River died. (That gives you a little perspective on how irrational I was thinking about the car situation.) But to me, it was just the last straw. What I realized though was my need for God’s love, for His approval and for His guidance. After all that had happened, I really didn’t know who I was anymore or what I was here for. What was my purpose? I didn’t fit the conventional title of “Mother” but I wasn’t just a wife anymore either. Who was I? In that moment, God just gently spoke to me:

You are my child and I love you.

I know how deeply I love River and it was then I realized that God loved me more than even that—more than I can fathom. A perfect parent’s love. Without River, I may have never known just how deep a love for a child can go and I may have never had a glimpse of just how much God loves me. But now that I do, I don’t want take it for granted again. Ever.