The Yellow Bench : Part One

It was towards the end of our Sunday evening "Sanity Drive" (in other words: "How to use up time before bedtime without going insane").

From the middle seat, our four year old son with an unusually long memory suddenly pipes up, "When can I see Hope?".

Wow.
Really?
He had heard me.

Several weeks ago, on another 'Sanity Drive' (i'm a big fan) I had decided to delve into the topic of their big sister, Hope, who is alive and quite well in her Heavenly home.
I kept it simple, happy and brief. Something along the lines of:

"Before all of you were born, mommy and daddy had a little baby growing in mommy's belly. While she was in my belly, she became very sick and Jesus decided to bring her to Heaven so that she would be well. Since she's in Heaven, which is the FUNNEST (i make up my own words) place EVER, she never gets sick. The sad thing for us is that we cannot see her because we do not have our 'special eyes' yet. We only get those when WE get to Heaven. I do not know when we'll get there, but I do  know she will be so happy to see us and we will be VERY excited to see her!"


At the time of this profound, yet simple revelation, I recall very little response. Mostly silence, as the two oldest's big brown eyes watched the passing farm fields, digesting the information imparted from the front seat.

He had heard, though. He remembered Hope and he remembered she was alive in Heaven.
Sweet.

It reminded me of a story I've been meaning to document for myself and share with you, if you care to read on. I share it not just for the sake of sharing a sweet story, but to express a greater view of life that I have. Today, I'll simply share the story...and my thoughts on it will have to wait for a seperate post.



I sat down on the bright yellow bench that  was in the hallway between the Bistro and the Arcade. It was the weekend after I had given birth to our little girl, Hope, at 27 weeks.
I had not been warned that I would be dealing with engorgment, hormones and the general discomfort that comes with having given birth. My dear sister had come in from Ohio where she went to college at the time, and she along with my husband and stepson, decided we should get out of the house for a change in scenary and a little distraction.

We decided on a local bistro-style restaurant that also had a huge arcade area that Rick (stepson) loved going to. After dinner, I realized that the noisy, crowded arcarde area was not the best place for me. I was struggling to keep it together, especially at the sight of what seemed  like an unusually dense population of little girls in one place.
And so, i told my husband that I would wait for the rest of them in the lobby.
They had a bench there, and they could find me on it when they were finished.

A bright, shiny yellow bench.



The bench provided my weary frame much relief, but as I watched families pouring through from the restaurant into the arcade, tears continued to threaten as there seemed to be so many little girls. Little bundles of feminity bustling by, reminding me of the dream I had left the hospital without just days before.

And so I sat with my head turned away from the entrance, keeping my eyes fixed on the exit sign high on the wall of the arcade area. As I sat there I was talking (in my head) to my Heavenly Father in a raw way, finding myself asking of Him something that sounded a little odd, even to me. 

"Father, I know Hope is fine. In fact, I know she is more than fine. She is alive and well in your perfect Home. But please, could you somehow please let this hurting mama know how happy you are to have her there? That her laughter is ringing in the halls of Heaven? That she is a breath of vibrant joy to the many already living there? I mean, if I cannot enjoy her on this side of Heaven, I just really, really need to know that she is being enjoyed and cherished on the other..."

As this internal conversation was going on, my eyes shifted their stalwart focus on the red glow of the exit sign onto a head full of brown curly hair, bound up in two little pigtails. A little girl, certainly no more than two years old, passes by holding the hand of her daddy. At the precise second my requests were placed, this pint-sized, pigtailed girl stops. She turns her head, looks directly into my eyes, slightly smiles and NODS.

I kid you not.
There was no imagining it.
I sat up on that yellow bench. Stunned at what just happened.
In my painful reality, God had heard.
In that second Heaven touched down on Earth in a tangible, unforgettable way.





That beautiful experience was a part of the formation in a shift in perspective for me.
Heaven used to be a belief of a world that had nothing to do with the present, other than offer a pleasant hope for the future. In death, there was a complete and utter separation from the life we had lived on Earth....that is what I used to think.

Hope had changed everything.

More thoughts to follow in the next post....






Comments

Debbie said…
Oh Jeane, bless your heart. How that must have hurt. I too have a baby in heaven. My pregnancy ended so early I could not know whether son or daughter. Sometimes I forget and that surprises me. But the remembrance brings me great joy when I remember that I have a child in heaven and one day I will meet that child. How hard that loss must be when a mother has carried and felt that child, knows that child. As you know, I have 2 daughters. My greatest regret is the decision I made many years ago to have only those two. I'm sure God would have blessed us with many more if we had recognized the great value of a large family. I so admire your decision to allow the Lord to bless.
Debbie said…
What a beautiful story of God's love for us. Sometimes we get so caught up asking for the bigger things in life, that we miss the blessing of knowing that He hears our faintest cry of desperation.
I can't wait to read the rest of the story.

Blessings,
Debbie
Laura said…
Just when I thought it was safe to put on make-up on a Monday morning!! I like to see how our lives, though so different, have such similar emotional outcomes. I appreciate how the Lord continues to send healing time and time and time again.
This past Christmas, I found myself surrounded by all the children in my family, none of them mine. Before I could even think to feel bad for myself, little one year old Ben, (who I had actually just met) left his Grandpa's arms and worked his way down the bench. He looked up at me, so I immediately picked him up and put him in my lap. He then nestled into my arms like I was his most comfy recliner. Just what I needed and I didn't even know I needed it. Jesus did. Love you friend. Laura
Sarah said…
Wow, Jeane'- You are one brave and inspiring woman. I totally believe that story about the little girl- God is so creative in his answers and his love for us.
I'm looking forward to reading more of your thoughts on this story.
Lots of love to you,
Sarah
Anonymous said…
so can relate to your shirt in perspective and your thoughts on heaven.
have had a shift myself over the years and especially after Logan died.

like i've told so many people "i've learned more through Logan's death then i believe i ever could through is life!". I believe you can relate, because I know HOPE has taught you & your family so much.

WE ARE THE ONES MISSING OUT ON THE SO MUCH MORE THAT LOGAN & HOPE ARE LIVING, are we not?
Can't wait to meet another one of your precious children. I will now dry my eyes and get on with my evening. Love you!
Mom
Test said…
Thank you for sharing such a personal and intimate story with us. I look forward to reading part 2.
Shar said…
So beautiful Jeane...
Rachel said…
ah Jeane`.
so very beautiful...
tears just flood my eyes as i read this...
you are such a gift..
Anonymous said…
Hi Jeane,
This was a beautiful tribute post. Made me tear up.
God bless your strength girl. God bless you.

Viola
James said…
I'm way too hormonal to read this post, but I'm glad I did. What a beautiful slice of heaven you experienced amidst such heartache. I'm looking at my little newborn girl right now and am so thankful. I do not take this slice of heaven for granted.
Terri said…
I love how God loves us. Thanks for sharing this story...we all need reminders that He cares about the deep things in our hearts.
Amber S. said…
I'm a new reader. Loved this post.
So beautiful.
Love how God gave you a little hug. Those moments are precious.
Look forward to reading part 2.

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