When I see anything heart shaped. Or a really beautiful sunrise. Or someone other than me talking really fast and infectiously, joy punctuating each syllable with life and sound. When I see the mountains that surround me I think of my friend. I think of the mountains she climbed to meet God, to pray, to adventure, to hunt for treasures He would reveal. When I see pictures of her grandson and the strength of her daughters, the resolve of the man she loved, I think of her.
The grief lingers. I underestimated it. I used to brush it off too quickly as time passed with others. But it lingers, like a full cup always at the brim, triggered by sometimes the most ordinary things. Overflowing. Mingled with joy and loss over and over again.
My friend, I would never wish you back from Him. Being in the presence of the King is the culmination of our heart’s desire.
But we miss your fire, the light you brought into every room. The safe place you were always for everyone you knew. And didn’t know.
I don’t even know why these moments make me think of you. But each day that passes I see more clearly how life is so fleeting. And what we think are ordinary days can turn into ones that shake us, shape us, form us into who we need to be for whatever tomorrow may hold, if tomorrow is ours to hold.
But I’m thankful for you. And I probably won’t ever stop thinking of you. You made all those ordinary things extraordinary reminders of the grace and love and mercy and delight of God. So when I see that heart shaped leaf or rock or string, I won’t think of ordinary things but of the love in Christ that we are never separated from. His love is a sure as the coming of the dawn. Happy Birthday in Heaven by the way. I know that your view is glorious.
By Jenny Erlingsson
