An Angel Now

On December 3, 1999 my mother was called from this earth. I don't know why the Lord wanted her, but I will trust in Him the way she did. She was allowed to leave behind a message for us though. Soon after her passing we were in the backyard and saw on her brown and barren rose bush, one rose that pushed its way up through several inches of freshly fallen snow to stand and proudly display it's blossom. We believe this to be a message from her that she is safe and in the arms of the Lord. Thank you for that message. We take comfort in it.

This is a letter I sent with my mom.

Dear Mom,

I was thinking of what I could send with you on your journey.

I thought of a curling iron and comb since you did hairdressing for so many years, but angels have perfect bodies and hair and they have no need for such things.

I thought of a paintbrush since you love to paint, but you have no need for that since you have all of God's creations to paint; sunsets, sunrises, rainbows and spring flowers.

I thought of your jewelry, but the sparkle would not compare to the city you live in now with streets paved of gold.

I thought of pictures of us, but they could not compare to looking into the face of Jesus.

So I send with you my tears and my heart, and I keep for myself the memories.

I Love you, Your Daughter

P.S. I will be watching for the sunsets and listening for the windchimes. We all thank you for the rose.

I found the following poem amongst some of her things:

Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room --

I am I, you are you; whatever we were to each other, that we are still --

Call me by my old familiar name and speak to me in the easy way you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no false air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect, without the ghost of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant -- It is the same as it ever was. There is absolutely unbroken continuity. What is death, but a negligible accident. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.

All is well ---

Well Mama, Christmas is upon us now and your passing was such a short time ago. The loss is so fresh and the hurt is still so tender. My heart and my spirit are heavy. The lights, and the songs seems to have lost their joy. The shopping is hard for me this year. I can't seem to focus. I find myself looking at mothers and daughters laughing and shopping together and I feel resentment that they have their mothers. But I catch myself because I know those feelings are wrong. That is not trusting in the Lord. And I begin to think of the Christmas you will have. What a glorious and wonderful sight Heaven must be on Christmas, the birth of Jesus. A celebration beyond earthly imagination. This is your first Christmas in Heaven and you must be overwhelmed and have such peace. I know I must not feel such sadness, those feelings are selfish because those feelings are about me -- feeling the loss of you. I will celebrate Christmas because the reason for the season is the birth of Christ and without the birth of Christ you would not be in Heaven, you would only be dead. But because of Him you are not dead, you are celebrating the most glorious Christmas ever. (Now I am feeling some envy for you. *smiles*) MERRY CHRISTMAS MAMA,

My First Christmas In Heaven

I see the countless Christmas trees
around the world below
With tiny lights, like Heaven's stars,
reflecting on the snow.

The sight is so spectacular,
please wipe away the tear
For I am spending Christmas with
Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs
that people hold so dear
But the sounds of music can't compare
with the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you,
the joy their voices bring,
For it is beyond description,
to hear the angels sing.

I know how much you miss me,
I see the pain inside your heart.
But I am not so far away,
We really aren't apart.

So be happy for me, dear ones,
You know I hold you dear.
And be glad I'm spending Christmas
with Jesus Christ this year.

I sent you each a special gift,
from my heavenly home above.
I sent you each a memory
of my undying love.

After all, love is a gift more precious
than pure gold.
It was always most important
in the stories Jesus told.

Please love and keep each other,
as my Father said to do.
For I can't count the blessing or love
he has for each of you.

So have a Merry Christmas and
wipe away that tear.
Remember, I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.

This poem was written by a 13 year old boy who died of a brain tumor that he had battled for four years. He died on December 14, 1997. He gave this to his mom before he died. His name was Ben.