Rylan adores his daddy. When he hears the garage door open at the end of a day, he drops whatever toy he's playing with and runs to the door. If we were reading a book, he throws it to the floor, no longer interested in trucks or tractors. If he was nursing a boo-boo, the sound of the door causes him to forget all about his pain. Nothing else matters. Because Daddy's home.
I think that's what it'll be like when we go to Heaven, except the roles will be reversed. We, as children, will come home from a long day's work and God, our heavenly Father, will greet us at the door. He'll drop everything else He's doing and run to us. A smile will cover his face as He opens the door for us. In that moment, nothing else will matter. Because we'll be home.
A friend of mine lost her child this past week. My heart breaks for them. No words can take away their pain. Nothing and no one can heal their hearts. No one, that is, except the God who ran to the door of Heaven to greet their little one. I pray that image is a comfort to them. Because some day, they too will be greeted. Not just by the One who made them, but also by the one they made. I think they'll be standing hand-in-hand, holding the door wide open for my friends to come in.
(To my wonderful friends, if you are reading this, please know that we love you guys and are praying for you constantly.)