Living Between Heaven and Earth

She seethed with all the rage an eleven-year-old could muster. I hadn’t even stopped the car completely when she jumped out of the front seat and glared at me through the window. Catherine was a force. Never had she been madder at me than she was at that moment, and she was making sure I knew it before she stomped off to her classroom.

I put the car in park and waded into the indignant fury radiating from my beloved daughter.

“Honey, I know you’re mad, and I’m sorry about that. But you and I never know when will be the last time we will see each other. I never want us to part on these terms. I love you.”

She was literally taken aback. Her head jerked upwards slightly in shock, and the body that had been quivering with rage slowed to a stop. She thought for a moment, then came over and hugged me. I’m sure she was still angry, but I was amazed that a kid her age would take that to heart. For the next three years, until the day she died, she seemed to live with the perspective born of that moment. Thank God, thank God. I had no idea I’d lose her so soon.

After her accident, I seethed with all the rage a forty-four-year-old could muster. I didn’t understand God’s perspective on my loss any more than Catherine understood why I made her go to summer school. I stomped and screamed and glared through the windows of Heaven, shaking my fist at the God who’d abandoned me. Had He not heard my prayers for her life? Didn’t He love me?

How could He do this to me?

Night after night, when I wanted to die, I instead searched the Bible for comfort. Words that had once only warmed my heart now pried open my eyes to eternity. So long ago, in an upper room, the man who was God faced an excruciating death. Rather than pleading with His friends for compassion, He gave them a hope: a hope they could cling to, a hope I could cling to, the hope that would save my sanity. He took me aback with this promise:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you may also be where I am. You know the way to the place I am going.” (John 14:1-4 NIV)

I wish I could say I responded to God as quickly as my child had come and hugged me. Rather, He suffered my rage and endured my fury until I collapsed at the foot of the Cross. From there He could lift me out of the pit. In the darkest of nights, when her accident haunted me, I learned to picture Jesus coming for Catherine in the high mountain meadow where she died. With her unbroken smile she’d be so happy to see Him! He’d hold out His hand, and she’d grin and accept, and together they’d fade from my sight. My daughter’s in Heaven, waiting for me. What a comfort! What a Savior. Thank you, Jesus.

…as it is written: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.”– (1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV)

©2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

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One comment

  1. julie says:

    Your words bring tears to my eyes and comfort to my heart. I ache for your loss.

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