Ashes...

I have Nanny's ashes. Not permanently. We will bury them with her parents over the summer. Papa shipped them to my aunt Joy to keep until then. I went to her house, knowing that the package was being delivered. It was chaotic, as she had the grandbabies, then my cousins came over for dinner. It was a good visit with lots of conversation and laughter, playing with the kiddos, tripping over toys, etc. When everyone left, Joy picked up the Fed-Ex box in the corner that had been staring at me for hours and asked if I wanted her to open it. I said yes.

It was incredibly emotional. Papa had placed some pictures in the box that he had laminated, and he had written a heart wrenching note on the back of one of them talking about how much he loves and misses her. The certificate of cremation and death certificate were also in there. The outside of the box has a label that reads "LINDA SUE WOOD, DOD 1/12/2019." I stared at the date and remembered every minute of that day, and the 6 days preceding it. It was (is) so hard to reconcile that the body that we left at the hospice facility that night, flesh and bones that we loved so dearly, were in that little box. I held the box in my lap while Joy and I talked. I was watching the clock, knowing that I needed to leave soon. Finally I said "I just can't put it down and leave." Joy knows me sometimes better than I know myself. Without hesitation, she said "just take her with you." She knew I needed that, but I would've never asked. I told her I'll bring her back whenever she wants me to and she just gave a comforting smile and said to take as much time as I needed.

It was a strange feeling, putting "Nanny" in my car and pulling out of the driveway. Strange, but surprisingly comforting.

I've had the ashes at my house for the last 2 days and though they are so significant because they're what's left of her physical body, I'm reminded that these ashes are the exact reason that we don't live for this life. God has taught me so many lessons and revealed so much to me in the last couple of days. My Nanny spent countless hours and money on her appearance. Anti-aging serums, morning and nighttime regimens to keep her skin looking healthy and young. Teeth whitening, beauty shop appointments every week, hair and nails... you name it. And she was beautiful. So, so beautiful. Even the people in the hospice facility commented on how beautiful she was. How young she looked. Now, that flesh and those bones are mere dust and bone fragments in a box waiting to be buried.

How sad for families who don't have the promise of Heaven. How tragic to think that this is it. A box of dust is what their family member has been reduced to. How would I cope, believing that her entire life meant nothing and that this is what was left of it? How meaningless would my own life be if I didn't have that hope?

But, God.

1 Corinthians 15: 50-58 What I am saying, dear brothers and sisters, is that our physical bodies cannot inherit the Kingdom of God. These dying bodies cannot inherit what will last forever. But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed! It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed. For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies. Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled: Death is swallowed up in victory.

Oh, death, where is your victory?

Oh death, where is your sting?

For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ. So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever in vain.

I love how Paul describes our earthly bodies here...

2 Corinthians 5:1-8 For we know when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (when we die and leave this earthly body) we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands. We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing. For we will put on heavenly bodies; we will not be spirits without bodies. While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it's not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us. Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life. God himself has prepared us for this, and as a guarantee he has given us his Holy spirit. So we are always confident, even though we know that as long as we live in these bodies we are not at home with the Lord. For we live by believing and not by seeing. Yes, we are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord. 

I can't say that her death hasn't stung. The truth is that I'm human. No matter how strong my faith is, the reality is that death hurts. Grief hurts. I hurt. I wish I could honestly say I'm overjoyed that she is walking with God. I'm not. I'm selfish and I miss her. I grieve for my Papa and the enormous loss and emptiness that he's feeling. I have felt like less of a Christian because I feel this pain so deeply. I have questioned my faith because I feel like "real Christians" would move on, knowing they'll see their loved one again. I've thought and prayed so much about this. I've concluded that it's ok to feel this way for a while. I am not less of a Christian because I'm grieving. Even Jesus grieved. I have to allow myself to do the same, but I must ultimately keep my focus on God's promise. We will be together again when I trade my 'tent' for my permanent home.