When I take supper to Pappaw and clean up his house, my son begs to go in to see him. If I'm in a hurry and need to just pop in and out and he thinks he might not get to go inside, he melts. "But I want to see him and give him a hug!"
Tonight he had some extra time to visit with Pappaw while I worked in the kitchen. When I finished, I started to the bedroom but stopped before entering when I overheard their conversation.
"...And you want to go to heaven to see Mammaw, 'cuz she died." my son said, matter-of-factly. And he's right. Pappaw wants to go home. He's just waiting, and he'll tell you so! "I think she'll remember me when I get there. I'll tell her my name and she'll know I'm her grandson."
"Yeah, she'll know you." Pappaw said, with certainty.
How I wish I could have recorded what they said! Already I can barely remember it. But I do remember my Pappaw admonishing my son to live right...to live for God...so that he could see him in Heaven.
The conversation went on for a little while and I listened, almost reverently, peeking in at the two of them sitting on the bed: one, old, stooped and tired, and the other so young and full of life. Years...no, lifetimes...apart and yet, they share one dream. Heaven.
I dream of that day, too, when we'll all be together, free of everything that hurt and disappointed us down here. It's the shared dream of all God's children, the hope that gives purpose to life on this reeling, sin-cursed, messed-up earth.
I don't know how much longer we'll have our Pappaw here with us but, no matter how much it will hurt when he leaves us, we'll have the comfort of knowing that he'll be waiting for us to join him. When we get there, I'm pretty sure my son won't have to remind Mammaw who he is. Pappaw will be there with her, and they'll be waiting for us...together...for a big, group hug.
Blessings,
