BY DAWN REED
Do they eat cake in heaven? That’s one of the things I’m pondering today. My mom went to heaven three years ago this morning at 7 a.m. Sometimes my brain spins with what’s going on up there. The term “heaven-iversary” seems appropriate. (You have to say it a few times for it to get a rhythm.) It was the best day ever for her: the day for which she had lived and served the Lord.
I didn’t go to preacher’s wife school, nor do I have a seminary degree. I know there will be singing around the throne and a marriage supper, but will there be other celebrations and snacks? Are there cupcakes for birthdays, or do they annually recognize arrival dates?
To be honest, before my mom went to abide there, I only thought about life in heaven occasionally. I knew we would both go there at some point. She and I often talked about the rapture. Nowadays, I tend to look to the sky – a lot. When I see a magnificent skyscape, I can’t help smiling, thinking, “My mom is up there.”
Losing a good mother is a deep wound. It hurts like a hog bite (a mountain phrase expressing great pain). In the last three years, I have comforted many a grown child who has lost his/her mother, saying, “I’m so sorry. I know exactly how this feels.”
Especially today, my heart and mind are filled with good memories and kind words she shared.
Kind words were her thing. She was known all over for being a great encourager. When Facebook arrived, it became a tool she fully utilized. I often hear from her Facebook friends that they miss her. In Lexington a few weeks ago, I saw a woman from back home I hadn’t seen in at least 30 years. The first thing out of her mouth was, “I miss your mom.” My mother had encouraged her and prayed for her often.
Today, on this heaven-iversary, I naturally reflect on her last day, her last hours. She was on Facebook at 4 a.m. that morning, three hours away from her departure. As I tried to sleep in an un-straddle-able chair in her room, she was praying for people who were hurting and posting something about a lost dog. Mmmm, mmmm, she left a mark. Not a scar, but a good mark.
Her passing was so sudden. We are now quite sure it was COVID. Her absolute last words to me were, “Pray, Dawn, pray.” And I did. Not realizing she would be gone in a few minutes, I prayed, “Please, Lord, help my sweet mother to be strong and courageous.” I’ve often rethought that. What a strange thing. Why, of all things in the world, would I say that? Strong and courageous?
She had been the epitome of strong and courageous. She taught her children to be victors, not victims. She taught us to trust in the Lord, period. He was Plan A and there was no Plan B. I was most blessed to be the daughter of Nancy Loftis Blackburn. I am so thankful to know that she is in heaven.
My mother was always a little embarrassed when I wrote about her. (I’m smiling as I type.) I wonder if they see some newspapers in heaven.