A Glimpse of Heaven

Written May 24, 2012

March 30, 2009 remains as one of the most remarkable days of my life, well, it’s probably THE most remarkable day of my life.  I always shy away from those definitive statements because, as a reader, it draws my attention away from the subject and I’m left thinking, “Is it REALLY THE most [whatever]” or “was it REALLY THE worst day of [whatever]?”  I suppose it’s the skeptic/cynic in me that still rears its ugly head from time to time.  But in this instance, the definitive is appropriate.

When I think of that day, “remarkable” is the word that consistently comes up to describe it.  It was certainly an extraordinary and amazing day but “remarkable” fits best because it is a day worth taking notice and it is absolutely a day to talk about.

It was a day, to be more accurate an afternoon and evening, in which I was an outsider looking in, yet a witness.  I was there for seven or eight hours yet I wouldn’t be surprised at all if most of the people there don’t remember my presence.

Lettia called that afternoon to ask if I would drive Samantha to the hospital to see her grandmother, Alan’s mother, who was in her last days.  Reba was an admirable and faithful woman whose body had been eaten up by arthritis.  For so long she had been so frail and the pain she endured in her bones and joints is a testimony to her strength and perseverance.  One of her medical conditions had turned her legs a deep bluish color.  It was something I had never seen before.

In the hospital, she had been unresponsive for hours, if not for the whole day before.  But when Sam and I got to her room, instead of a somber and quiet room that I expected, we walked in on laughter and Reba sitting up in bed awake.  The covers were pulled back from the end exposing her feet – her pink, beautiful feet!  I couldn’t believe it!  I looked at Lettia with a “What the heck?” expression and she said that when Reba woke up that her feet were a normal color and that Reba hadn’t stopped talking since she woke up.  She had a lot to talk about – she’d seen heaven.

“Heaven is for real.  I’ve seen it.  Tell everyone.  Everyone!” she said.  She saw her husband and parents there with waiting arms, she saw the streets paved in gold; she saw it, and then returned to tell about it.

Shortly after we arrived at the hospital, she was transferred to a hospice unit just down the road and we all gathered there.  She had a huge room there, thank goodness, because the whole family was there.  While Reba had lived to tell the tale of heaven, she only had a brief time to tell her story and to say her goodbyes.

Alan and Lettia are more than friends to us.  Our families have intermixed into one.  So, I have met many of his extended family at various family events like weddings and graduations but I had never been with them all together at the same time.  It was Reba’s last day, and while there were some tears, most of those tears were from laughter (usually started by something hilarious that Reba would say).  She was surrounded with joy and love.

Reba would call each of the family members over to her bedside and give them her last words.  Sometimes she was grandma scolding someone to correct something in their life, sometimes she was funny, sometimes she was encouraging, and sometimes she was a combination of all three.  But it was all said in love.  By late in the evening, she had covered everyone in the room with her wisdom and blessings and then she looked at me.  She said to me, “I really don’t have any last words for you.”  I walked to her bedside, grabbed her hand and said, “That’s alright because I have some for you.  Now that I see your whole family together for the first time, I understand Alan better.  J  But what I see is that you have raised an incredible family who loves, laughs, and is faithful.  This is your legacy and I am sure that when you see Jesus again that He will say to you, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant!’”

Reba returned to heaven about four hours later.

When I think back on this story, it still brings tears to my eyes.  Tears of gratitude to have been blessed to be a witness to that day.  Tears of admiration of a woman who spent her last hours doing exactly what she needed to do – to say goodbye and to leave a lasting memory of both her and heaven.

I started this out calling it a remarkable day but, in the end, I have great difficulty saying (or remarking) just what it is about that day that so impacts me.  God gave Reba a glimpse of heaven so that she could tell everyone.  Now, as I write this, I realize that Reba gave me a glimpse of God so that I could tell everyone.  God is love.  God is wisdom. And God is even humorous.