A Joyful but Hurting Heart

And we will dance on the streets that are golden

The glorious bride and the great Son of Man

From every tongue and tribe and nation

We'll join in the song of the Lamb

I started writing this the day before I left for Africa, but I wasn't quite ready to finish it so I assumed I'd finish when I got home. Then Africa happened, and for some reason the timing of when to post this never felt right, so I kept waiting. I woke up last night in tears from an awful dream in which I took my kids to see Aunt Joy. After I packed them all up in the car I went to hug her goodbye and she died in my arms. I dream so vividly, and it can be very beautiful but also very painful. It suddenly felt like the right time to finish this.

It is with joy that I can say that my Great Aunt Joy is dancing on the streets of heaven today with all of her brothers and sisters, with her mom and dad, with my dad and with so many others who have gone before her. It is with joy that I can say that she has met her creator and can be in His presence today. It is with joy that I can say she is no longer in pain in this earth, but she is with He who overcame this world.

It truly is with joy that I can say all of these things. That doesn't change the fact that I am hurting from the inside out as I write this. This morning I called to tell her I loved her before leaving the country, as I suspected it'd be the last time I'd be able to, but I was late.  she had already passed. I know that "one more time" is never enough, and it wouldn't make it hurt any less. I know that she knew I loved her, and I know that one more call wouldn't have sealed that love in her heart. I still wanted it though.

Moving to California when we did was such an orchestration for my relationship with Joy. Joy was special to me as a kid, though I didn't see her much, and she and I talked on a few occasions about how she wished I could come see her in San Mateo, California. It sounded so glamorous to me! I never thought I'd actually make it out there, but when we found out where we'd be moving I was so excited to call and tell her. We drove up to see her on our first weekend in California and Austin, William and I all instantly fell in love with our trips up to visit. The loving connection between young children and elderly people is so beautiful to see, and William loved his Aunt Joy. He always asked if we could take flowers to her, and seeing the smile on her face brought so much happiness to his.

Being away from our immediate family for almost a decade, having Joy nearby was so special to us. Austin and I talked often about how amazing it was that we were able to take the time to visit her often and that what looked like a sacrifice on our part to do something nice for her was actually just a blessing to us. Joy was a remarkable woman who lived such a rich life. Over the last 3 years I sat with her for hours listening to her stories of her past. Stories of my family, stories of our country, stories of her good times and some of her bad. Her memory was impeccable and the greatest gift she could give to me was the knowledge she had on our family history. 

I know we went to California for so many reasons. It'd be easy to say it's just where the army sent us, but that's not it at all. God had a lot of work to do and a lot of resources set up for that work right there waiting for us. His timing, as always, was perfect as we got to have the best of Joy's last 3.5 years. I hated leaving when I did, knowing her end was near and knowing if I had 6 more months I'd probably be able to comfort her a little more. But God had a reason for taking us away when he did too, and in that He spared me the pain of watching someone go from where she was to the end in such a short time.

The day after I got back from Africa William asked me, 'when can we go back to California and visit Aunt Joy?' My heart was full of happiness and pride in the fact that she was so tremendous to make such an impression on him, but broke into pieces as I watched his face crinkle up with tears when I told him she had gone to be with Jesus.

The entire time we lived there she repeatedly told me, 'I'm not ready yet, it's just not my time'. One month before she died we were on the phone and she told me she was ready. She had finally completed what she felt she was brought here to do, and she was ready to go be with her Heavenly Father. How beautiful a gift is that?