I have often had the idea that in heaven we are all in a perfect, mature body. I never really had any scripture to back this up. Just the knowledge that when God created the garden of Eden, Adam and Eve, all the trees and animals were full grown, it was a perfect world, and they were mature, not children. Brother Chris shared a verse at Abigail's funeral that I have thought back on many times, that I have really loved. A verse which supports the idea that Abigail isn't a baby there.
"For, behold, I create new heavens and a new earth: and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind. But be ye glad and rejoice for ever in that which I create: for, behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. And I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and joy in my people: and the voice of weeping shall be no more heard in her, nor the voice of crying. There shall be no more thence an infant of days, ... for the child shall die an hundred years old; ..." - Isaiah 65:17-20I have seen other says that our children were needed to be angels. I HATE hearing that. My child isn't an angel, she's better than an angel. She's a child of God, of the most high, of the King of Kings. I've heard others says that they believe their grandmother who has passed away is taking care of their baby, or that they will hold and rock their child when they die. That doesn't bring me any comfort either. And I think it's for two reasons. First, I don't trust people with my kids, I really don't. And, it doesn't make me feel good to think that someone else is getting to do all those baby things with my baby when I can't. Secondly, and more importantly, I get great comfort from the word of God, from listening to the elders and deacons hard-shelling, from the knowledge we have been blessed with in this day and time. I look forward to understanding better, from hearing it from the Lord himself. Now I have three living children. Rebecca doesn't understand anything about the things of God, she's only 2. Ruth has a limited understanding, I get the impression sometimes that she things God is a fun grandparent, and that Heaven is somewhere west of Alabama. Britt has a lot of understanding for his age, but still he is very limited. I feel like I've been blessed with good sound teaching for many years from my parents and grandparents, from my pastors, from my study, but I am all too aware how little I understand. I know that when we get there we will no longer see through a glass darkly but we will have great understanding. And I just can't see a baby or a child with their ignorance, being rocked on someone's lap, and missing out on the entire wonder that is Heaven.
I don't like imagining her weak body that faded away for some unknown reason. I don't like picturing her baby body that was broken and incompatible with life. I don't know if it was something with her genes or something with my body or something that she lacked or what. I much prefer to imagine her in her perfect, eternal body in Heaven. And of course, since perfection is red-hair, I'm sure that's what she has, straight and silky like Rebecca's hair but long, strawberry-blond hair. I like to imagine that she has blue, crinkly eyes like Gary and the rest of our children. I always imagine her smiling, after all she's in Heaven. And one of these days, when I get there I expect at some point, we'll share a big hug.
|9-13, Dad went to SoHo this week and picked out some|
flowers. He carried them to Mrs. Cindy, who also
did our wedding flowers, and asked her to make something for Abigail.