…but our treasures are in heaven.”
My family enjoys geocaching from time to time. It’s a “sport” that we can all do, which is a rare find with small kids. On January 2nd of last year, I was feeling rather low after passing yet another of Bryan’s birthdays so we set out to see how many caches we could locate in a certain area. One cache took us to the gravesite of that city’s founder and I refused to get out of the car. While Erik wrote down the information from the headstone I glanced out the passenger side window and the last half of the above quote caught my eye. For those who don’t know, Bryan’s site is entitled “A Treasure in Heaven” (ATiH). I pried myself from the van to investigate further and found the first half of the inscription. The stone was shared by a set of twins. One died at birth (October 24, 1882) and the other almost five years later (May 27, 1887). Of course the story unfolding as I read that monument hit very close to home for us. I pondered the quote again and again before jotting it on a piece of paper in the van.
When you find out you’re expecting, your mind runs wild with hopes and dreams for that new life. Then, when those hopes are cut short; vaporized in a matter of minutes after a diagnosis, accident or tragic incident, what do you do? Your life is permanently changed from that moment on and often it’s hard to see much “hope” in anything for a while.
Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. (Proverbs 13:12)
That’s exactly how I felt when we left that hospital empty handed. When Lee was born eleven months later, my longing to bring a baby home was fulfilled. Of course, my longing to watch Bryan grow and change won’t ever be. We buried that earthly hope just over nine years ago (Jan 3rd). A piece of you goes when you outlive your child and that gaping hole has thrown me at the feet of God time and time again. I’ve begged His strength, His protection, His comfort and His hope. Every time, He reveals the substance of my faith.
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)
He reminds me that hope is not lost. He has made a way. I will rejoice and praise our living God side by side with my son one day. I will be able to do this because God gave His Son for me. Even in the midst of my sorrow that day out caching, God placed me in view of that stone so I would be reminded of the hope I have in Him. I often wonder how many that grave marker has touched over the last 120+ years. Two small children who hardly had time to make any kind of mark on this world and yet, over a century later they are turning hearts toward the hope of heaven. My earthly hope may be buried here…
…but my treasure is in heaven.
This post is dedicated to all the bereaved parents who hope for the day when they’ll hold their precious children again.