I'll See You Again, Baby

"I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and He will dwell with them.  They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.' 

He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!'"

Revelation 21:3-5

            Today would have been my niece Rhea’s 7^th birthday.  I don’t get to see Rhea these days; I can’t see her ride a bike or pet a dog or lose a tooth. I can’t see her at all because she is in heaven. But even though I can’t see her, I love thinking about her.  I love thinking about her perhaps swinging on a swing in the backyard of a mansion in heaven.  I love imagining her giggling as she dips her toes in the crystal sea. I love picturing her singing with the multitude of angels and saints, singing praise to Jesus—nothing hindering her from worshiping God with her whole heart.  It’s amazing to know that Rhea has felt Jesus’ arms around her; it’s amazing to know that she has never cried, has never worried, has never been afraid. Her soul is not attacked by darkness, but is free in the light of the Son.

            I remember the hug I gave to my sister Rachel and my brother-in-law Brandon when they told me they were expecting another baby.

            I remember giving Rachel the rest of my sandwich when we were shopping at the outlet mall because she was eating for two. I joked with her, “I guess I’ll share if it’s for the baby.”

            I remember going over to their house to help with the kids when Rachel had morning sickness—really, it was all-day nausea—and was too sick to get off the couch.

            I remember when her baby bump began to show, and I remember the back-and-forth discussion of what they wanted to name the baby.

            I remember the phone call—when I found out that we had lost her.  I was walking to my 11:05 class on my college campus.  I could hear the tears in Brandon’s voice as he told me the news over the phone. I was stunned at first, the wind knocked out of me as I robotically put my phone back in my bag.  I went into the building where my class was, but I walked to the restroom instead.  As soon as I was inside the restroom, the tears came.  I leaned my head against the wall and felt in my stomach how much I already missed this baby, how much I was dying to hold her now, how much I loved her even though I had never seen her.

            Rhea was silently born on October 15, 2007.  I was unable to be at the hospital because I was at college (which is one of my biggest regrets), but I came home for the funeral.  I went a little early because I wanted to see Rhea before they closed her little casket.  My sister and brother-in-law let me hold her little body in my hands.  We marveled at her fingers and toes and how much her beautiful face resembled her two older sisters.  I kissed her forehead. I’ll see you again, baby. I love you.

            It was a small graveside funeral.  The morning felt almost angelic because the fog was so thick over the green grass of the cemetery. The fog felt right.  My dad didn’t anticipate that there would actually be a heavy fog that morning, but he had prepared to preach and share the MSG version of 1 Corinthians 13:12: “We don’t yet see things clearly.  We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist.  But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing Him directly just as He knows us!” Yes, the fog felt right.  Thank You, Lord, for giving us the fog on that morning.

            The days and months to follow I processed my own grief, but also prayed for and tried to encourage my sister and brother-in-law as they grieved.  I will always remember one thing that Rachel said during that time.  She said, “I have never been more grateful for the gift of salvation than I was the moment the doctor told me she was gone.”  She said it was one thing to be grateful for her own salvation through Christ, but it was a whole new wave of overwhelming gratefulness to think the Lord had also given salvation to her daughter.  Rachel and Brandon said they didn’t feel mad at God; instead they felt even more in awe of God because He created Rhea so beautifully, and He gave her the gift of eternal life.

            It’s hard because I wanted to be her aunt here—to bounce her on my hip, cuddle with her during a movie, braid her hair, race her around the yard.  I already knew what it was like to have a niece, and I didn’t want to give that experience with Rhea up.  I wanted her to know how much I loved her...  But I’m sure she knows.  And I’m sure she is experiencing the greatest love of all right now.

            Today on Rhea’s birthday, I want to try to picture her in heaven.  I want to imagine her smile and the way she looks at Jesus.  I want to envision her dancing with the Prince of Peace.  I want to think about—

what Rhea now knows…the mysteries of God,

what she now smells…the fragrance of God in His presence,

what she now hears…the voice of God like rushing waters,

what she now sees...the glory of God, the beauty of God, the face of God.

            When I think about Rhea, I remember that our time on earth is temporary; our time on earth is like grass that withers, flowers that fall, a fog that fades.  I remember there is more than what we see on earth.  This is just a shadow.  If we place our trust in Jesus, one day we will feel no more pain—only perfect peace and joy. One day we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever, just like Rhea is now.  When I think about Rhea, it helps me to see the unseen.  I’ll see you again, baby.  I love you. Happy Birthday, sweetheart!  #seeingtheunseen

"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life." (John 3:16)