it's when i turn the wheel left that her question drifts up from behind me.
as her face is lifted up and peering through the glass the keeps her inside,
mama? it's really cloudy today.
and i murmur agreement because my eyes are trained on the curving road.
but it's as i straighten out the van and press on the gas that she sees it,
that break in the clouds.
mama!! i see it!! i see the light coming through! mama!! i see heaven!
and suddenly i can't see through the tears that have been threatening all day,
the ones that show that i'm not done missing his dad,
the ones that remind this heart of all the unanswerable questions still there but i listen because she still has more to say,
mama? it's heaven, right? i'm looking at heaven? does that mean i'll get to see papa and Jesus too if i look hard enough at the clouds?
and soon i'm laughing and crying because the innocence of a child is a beautiful thing to be near and i remember wondering those same thoughts.
i woke up this morning and thought back to this day lost in memories and time.
2 years worth of days and moments that no longer have him in them.
and sometimes, the years that stretch out ahead of us seem overwhelming
and sad
because he could have made the choice to still be here.
but he didn't.
and two years ago this evening, we didn't even know he was gone.
and that still breaks my heart.
but then the eyes of a little girl lift up,
they look beyond the clouds and the sun and the physical world of what is
and look to where He is...
where her papa is.
and hope shines into our darkest days,
and laughter mingles with the ache when her wistful fills the space,
mama? do you think papa and Jesus are getting a big old party ready for us too?
