Divine exchange

I am so sleepy but I wanted to share this, as I shared with my cellgroup earlier. Good thing I stayed up too, because I saw Franco on Google talk! So we caught up after over three years.

I have not seen Franco since I left London. We met on board a boat- one of those drinking parties organized by LSE. His surname is Fugazza- which he says in Italian means onions.

Anyways, I wanted to say that every time I think of granddad, I still tear.

It’s not that I don’t believe he is in heaven. I would like to believe he is. It’s just that I still love him and he his not here anymore. And I remember vividly his struggles.

I remember I asked if he is thirsty and wanted water. He squeezed my hand. But the nurse said no. So I wiped his lips with a wet towel. He tried to taste it with his tongue but they had a device to keep his tongue from moving down his throat so he won’t choke, so he couldn’t taste the water.

I said I would like to see him in heaven. If he wishes that also, will he not follow me in prayer? I said I will make sure grandma also goes to heaven and see you there. And in heaven you won’t have to wait so long. It will be like tomorrow before you see us again, because God is greater than time.

He pushed my hand away. Was he not pleased with me?

My quiet time next morning, I came to a passage in the Bible:

One night the Lord spoke to Paul in a vision: “Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent.” Acts 18:9

It is only one sentence but to me it carried God’s promise and faithfulness.

I like to think granddad is happy and free and I imagine his smile. I love you ye-ye. I really do. And I miss you.

I now believe there is reality to the concept of mourning. It’s not just a period of observance. The heart really mourns.