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Happy Birthday. You're Going to Heaven.

1:17 AM - Jan. 18, 2007 - Add to the Wildness

On Monday, January 22, my friend Victor, whose cancer was pronounced terminal last week, will turn 38. In a phone call with a mutual friend this evening, his wife Tam gave two specific prayer requests: "That Victor wouldn't be suffering, and that I would be able to sleep."

I remember when Dave's Grandma died - I was at her side as she passed - that feeling of amazement, watching a human soul pass into the arms of Christ. It was replaced within a few days by bitter jealousy and pain. It struck me, once the other emotions passed, that she got to see and hold my baby Miranda before me, and it cut deeply. I was almost distraught with that thought.

If I can keep myself together, I have a favour to ask of Victor. There is a strong reality at work here: He is going to a real location that I cannot right now. He is going where my child is. And I want him to tell her that I love her. I know Jesus does, because I've asked Him to, but I want it reinforced by someone who's lived as sinner, saint and soul made whole. We are part of Christ's body for a reason. I suppose I see it as a prelude - let others go before, and then soon enough it'll be me, myself, thanking God with her for His redemption of the lives we didn't live.

I don't know if or how much people can look down on the world from heaven. I do know that all she would see is demonstrations of grief and loss. I have no way of demonstrating love - there's no one here to give it to.

I learned to anticipate heaven before I ever believed in it. When I first told Dave about Miranda, it was with the thought that surely he would now reject me, since he was religious. Instead, he put his arms around me and cried with me, and he said, "I believe your baby's in heaven." I wished then that heaven were real.

It is.

In the meantime, this broken universe ticks on. Tam needs peace and rest. Hearts are breaking all around her - hers and those of her young children. She told me that trying to explain the terminal diagnosis to them was something she didn't even want to try to articulate. I said, "It's like being asked to break their hearts, isn't it." And she just nodded.

If you have prayers or birthday wishes for Victor, please leave a comment, and I'll copy-and-paste it to email to them. If you have thoughts or experiences to share with Tam, leave those too, and I'll pass it all on. (Note: a first name and/or state/province or even just country of origin would be a good way to personalize, for those of you willing.)

Wishing Victor the best that the day can be.
and holding him in prayer that separation from this fallen, fallible world will be as gentle as nightfall.
And for those left behind that they will be enveloped in love, and that each day will be a thousand years, and each millenium just a day.
jackie - the uk one.
Anonymous - 1:32 PM - Jan. 19, 2007

Happy Belated Birthday!
Happy Birthday, Victor! And God's blessings on you, too, Tam! You're both in our prayers. While we've never met, I send my sisterly love and affection, looking forward to the day when I will meet you in God's presence.
Much love,
Pamela
Chicago
Pomaleedon - 12:28 AM - Jan. 20, 2007

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