My little girl has been thinking and talking about Elli a lot. Despite the age difference (5 years) and how young Little Girl is, they were pretty close sisters. I love this photo of the two of them from last Christmas. Little Girl loved her sister and really misses having another girl in our family.
We dropped something off at the funeral home the other day, and I know that Little Girl thought we might see Elli there. I had to explain that it was a place for people to come and tell us how much they loved Elli and how much they love us. That we took Elli’s body in the special bed called a casket and put it in the ground at the cemetery. That Elli is not in that casket, her spirit has a new body in heaven with Jesus.
The perseverance, the eternality, of the human spirit is a weighty thing to grasp at any age. Let alone at age 3.
On the drive home from the funeral home, Little Girl was quiet. I realized she was crying when we pulled into the garage. Once we got her unfastened from her carseat, I gave her a big hug.
She said, “Mommy, I want to be with both you and Elli.”
My heart just broke. She feels so torn, wanting to go to heaven and be with Elli now, and wanting to stay here with me.
Then she said, “I don’t want to die. How long until I die, Mommy?”
While I desperately want to protect her from death and dying, I really don’t think that avoiding the subject is wise. So, even though it hurts, and I feel totally clueless sometimes to comfort her and answer her questions, I am so thankful that she is talking and asking her questions outloud.
I explained that God does not tell us how long we have to live here. This is something we just don’t know (I try to be very honest about the things I don’t know, can’t answer.)
Little Girl has nightmares, so at bedtime and when she wakes up screaming and terrified, we repeat “I don’t need to be afraid because God is always with me.” I reminded her of this most important thing that we do know: God is always with us, no matter where we are and no matter what we are doing, even when we die. So on the day that Little Girl‘s life ends, He will be with her, and she won’t be afraid.
Psalm 23
1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,3 he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.4 Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.6 Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.
This comforts me too, when I think about Elli dying alone in her room. I struggle with guilt and sadness that I wasn’t there at that most important moment. That I was sleeping, or lazily and slowly waking up, oblivious to whatever was going on in her room. But through the tears and pain, I have to remind myself, “God is always with us, so we don’t need to be afraid,” Elli wasn’t really alone, and because Jesus was with her, she wasn’t afraid.
Yesterday Little Girl drew this picture. It’s all of us in heaven. 
I love that she drew Elli standing next to her.
I realized in the days after Elli’s death that I really don’t know what I know about heaven. We say lots of things, comforting things, but are they based in Scripture or are they wishful thinking, superstition, fairy tales? Does Elli really have a new body in which she can run and dance and sing, for example? 
A friend loaned me her copy of the new book “Heaven” by Randy Alcorn. It’s a comprehensive look at what the Bible teaches about what happens to God’s people after they die. Randy shows how God uses concrete physical language to describe heaven (rooms, gardens, fields, mountains, etc.). That we human beings are both spirit and body. That when Moses and Elijah appeared next to Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration, the disciples recognized them for who they were because they had bodies. He believes this is evidence that we will know each other for who we were in this life – we will remember.
So this is where we are right now. Thinking and talking about weighty things with young ones. Crying and praying over weighty things as adults. Searching for real answers, not band-aids.
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Do you like Randy’s book? I have been thinking about it for a read aloud to the boys. I think heaven is something that we misinterpret so often, and I want the boys (and I need to as well) to understand it better. I want them to also have great anticipation for getting to be there! I know I look forward to it!
I thought about handwriting and mailing these thoughts to you, but here I am and now am I thinking about it now, so here it is now:
I hold you all in my prayers often. I cannot imagine the sadness. You just endured your first Thanksgiving without Elli, and now Christmas is so close. The first Christmas without Elli is just around the corner. I am so sorry for your pain.
Sure, we know Elli is rejoicing. Elli has the Greatest gift EVER. Right now. THIS Christmas. But you hurt. Her gain is your deep loss, and I am so sorry for your pain.
I miss her curly brown hair sticking out over her chair on Sunday mornings, and the peeks she would take at the people behind her (with that big grin of hers!), and her sounds, and watching her reach for her dad's arm, or the words & pictures you would draw her in your journal. Mom Loves Elli. Elli loves Mom. I miss that and I knew her so little and for such a short time. I am so sorry for your pain.
This is the first holiday season her brothers and sister have to endure without watching videos with her and listening to favorite Christmas songs. They don't quite get it, who does? They think about it and it seems scary and amazing at the same time. Elli can run and jump and sing?! But not here, not with us? I am so sorry for your pain.
I cannot fathom it, and I cannot take it away, but I can sit with you while you cry. I can sit with you while you, you know "rave a bit". Whatever, dear sister. Whatever. I can also pray for you all because, well because, I am just so sorry for your pain!
So there will be times of Merry this Christmas. There will be times of quiet peace this Christmas. There will be times of tears and anger this Christmas. We love you through them all, and wish you did not have so much pain, this Christmas.
With my love and prayers.
What an AWESOME opportunity to talk to Anna. What great joy to watch our Father at work and His plan unfold.
Good post.
I fascinated by how 3 year old think and draw pictures.
Has Scott gone bald recently? I noticed he had no hair. However, Anna’s hair is spot-on real life. Luke looks very tiny— I’m assuming he’s being raised by a family of giants.
Thinking about you often
Joy,
This brought tears to my eyes. I was 14 when my little brother died at the age of 12. We were best friends, and I still remember waiting for him to get on the bus at the Middle School and then remembering that he would never get on the bus. That was the hardest… I can’t imagine the heartbreak you feel.
My hugs and hand squeezes go out to you.
Michele
Eternity is such a vast concept, so beyond our comprehension. But I think that sometimes our little ones have a better understanding than we do. Perfect example – she drew Elli STANDING beside her. There are so many things that God imprints on our hearts when we’re born, that I think we ‘forget’ as we get older. But the heart of a little child…
God’s blessing on each one of you this Christmas.
Praying for our little girl especially, as she misses being with her big sister. Love to all of you.
)
Mom
and Gramma to our little girl!
I am grateful God has given you the ability to write so movingly about so many things. Happy times when children do childish silly things that make us laugh. Times of terrible grief when about all you can do is continue to move, slowly, forward until it passes, knowing that there will be another wave that will be coming, and another after that.
It is healing for me to read your thoughts and meditations. It is hard, too, since I know you grieve as well. I’ve broken up a number of times reading your words and seeing the pictures, and remembering. Almost lost it during worship last Sunday when we sang “How Great the Father’s Love for Us” which we sang at Elli’s memorial. I know that Elli is at home with Jesus. It is a comfort to me that, like the man referred to John 7:23, Jesus made Elli completely whole on a Sabbath. Your Mom and I hope that is a comfort to you and Scott, to Little girl, and Sam, and Wukie.
Love,
Dad
Sounds like your doing a great job talking to your daughter.
And it seems this blog is a good outlet for use as well.
God Bless you and your family.
Joy, thanks for commenting on my blog. What you said about being comforted by the fact that Jesus came to set us free from sin and DEATH really jumped out at me.
Of course, I knew that, but I have been so caught up in missing Jenna’s presence as we look at the lights, and anticipating the huge gap when we give out presents and she’s not there.
Your gentle reminder gives me a reason to celebrate this christmas – oh death, where is thy sting? I can rejoice in the middle of my pain – because of Jesus.
I’m off to read some more of your posts.
I came over from Sumi’s blog. It is so hard to keep meeting mommy’s that have little ones that are with Jesus now. We too know the grieving journey. Our 3 yr. twin dx with a child hood cancer 12/06 and went to be with Jesus 1/23/07. It is still so shocking. May the God of grace embrace our hearts with His great might and comfort us.
Cindy