Fears. Everyone has them. I especially do. I am a huge whimp when it comes to scary movies, someone sneaking up on me while washing my face, or being home alone. I watched the Exorcist when I was 16 not knowing what it was and slept with my parents for a week afterwards. My mom finally forced me into my own bed saying we needed to find something to comfort me, which turned out to be Psalm 121. I would read it every night before going to bed and then for almost a year following I would leave my Bible open to that passage throughout the night.
And yes, I am the girl you see streaking through the parking lot (with clothes on!) when its dark outside looking in every direction until my neck hurts, opening the car door and jumping (literally) into the driver's seat while simutaneously locking the car and checking the back seats for unwanted guests. Whew!
All of this to say that these fears, even though you might argue are a little crazy, are nothing compared to the irrational - and I mean, IRRATIONAL - fears I had after giving birth to Andrew.
Our first big outing after he was born was to a semi-pro hockey game in a huge stadium. The entire time we were walking up, up and up to our seats in the nose bleed section I was formulating my plan on how I was going to get this precious little baby out of the massive building if we had an earthquake...in Midwest America. It took me 10 minutes to calm these pounding thoughts in my head before I could relax and watch the game... only to have those thoughts resurface by thinking that we DID live on one of the largest fault lines in the United States (at least that is what I thought I remembered from geography) and what was keeping the plates from shifting now!?!
Throughout Andrew's little life, and now including Ryan into these worries and fears, I have realized that they all center around death and dying. Which has had me constantly saying prayers like, "Oh please God, do not take them away from me! I will have to be locked up in a nuthouse if you take them from me." or "Please God, let us all live nice, long healthy lives so that we can share in the milestones of life together. I want them to know me and Mike." or "If you have to take one of us, dear Lord, please just go ahead and take us all together."
I know you as a parent have had these similiar thoughts too.
Thankfully, a very dear friend shared the book "Heaven is for Real" with me in March of this year. Her mother had read it, and know has made her journey to bask in the presence of the granduer of Heaven, and passed it on to Andrea who in turn recommended it to me.
It is the most beautiful and peace-filled story I have every read in my life. It has truly changed my life.
The story is about a little boy named Colton who dies and goes to Heaven for 3 minutes. It is an extremely powerful story that unfolded over the years following Colton's devasting event at the age of 3.
If you haven't read it, you need to. If you are questioning your faith, get a copy and read it now.
Of course I still have fears after reading the book, but nothing like I was experiencing. Colton's time in and his description of Heaven has made my fear of dying minimum to non-existent. Don't get me wrong, I am not going to go out and tempt fate or turn into Evil Knievel. But I am anxious to get there and I yearn to see Jesus, God and the Holy Spirit in all their glory. I am looking forward to singing in the Heavenly chorus.
I believe that God is still performing miracles all around us every single second of every single day. I thank Him for miracles like Colton's story and its truth as well as Don Piper's story in "90 Minutes in Heaven."
"I lift my eyes up to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth." Psalm 121:1-2
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