I’m a stickler for accurate theology.
While that might make for interesting and lively debate with fellow believers, force of habit limits my imagination when it comes to what I believe with certainty about Heaven.
So on the other side of sending my child ahead of me to live with Jesus, I find I wish I were more free to make up scenes of what he might be doing there. But I cannot, no matter how hard I try, create a movie-style narrative that includes him and the saints that have gone before.
And that leaves a gaping hole in addition to the unfillable abyss in my heart of where Dominic used to be.
I also do not believe my son sends me signs from heaven. I wrote about that here a few months ago. Although I do believe that God Himself can and does use the natural world to encourage my heart and give me hope.
And approaching the third anniversary of Dominic’s leaving, I need a little encouragement to hope.
So a few weeks ago I did something for myself that I probably should have done long before. I bought six beautiful sets of windchimes-different lengths, different tones-and hung them all around my house under the porch eaves where even the slightest breeze sets them swaying.
They help me remember what Jesus told Nicodemus, “The wind blows all around us as if it has a will of its own; we feel and hear it, but we do not understand where it has come from or where it will end up. Life in the Spirit is as if it were the wind of God.” ( John 3:8 VOICE)
They help me remember that God drew Dominic to Himself by His Spirit when he was a little boy in ways I can’t see or fully understand.
They help me remember that God was present and working on the day He called him Home.
They help me remember that God is working right now to hold my heart steady and help me rest firmly on His promise that we will be together one day for eternity.
God has not abandoned me.
Every tinkling sings hope to my heart.