Colossians 3:1

Since, then, I have been raised with Christ, I set my heart on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  I set my mind on things above, not on earthly things.  For I died, and my life is now hidden with Christ in God.  When Christ, who is my life, appears, then I will also appear with Him in glory.

I remind myself of this today.  Today, I am not the only one missing a child.  I am not the only one who knows my child is in heaven, but does not know the color of his eyes or the texture of his hair.

I have a friend who is missing his child today, too.

It is a secret, painful ache.  One that people don't run around talking about.

"Hey, Bob, what's up?  Me... oh, well, I'm just thinking an extra lot about my dead children today."

Right.  When is the last time someone admitted such a thing to you?

That's what I thought.

So today, rather than talk about my friend or his child, I will talk about me.  Because if you know about me, you will know about my friend.  And you will know about Suzie and Matt, and you will know about J. & C., and M. & J., and S. & J., and R. and J., and T. & E., and L. & F., and so many more - and these are just people in my life.  I am sure there are just as many in yours.

There are parents who knew their child.  Who looked into his or her eyes, who stroked his or her hair, who prayed desperately to not have to say good bye.  Parents who have stood before a tiny coffin, tears streaming. 

There are parents who have paid all the fees, filled out all the papers, been approved on every level... and who must spend the rest of their earthly lives knowing their child (or children) will never come home because for whatever reason, the adoption never came to fruition. 

There are parents who met their child briefly... tiny babies, babies too tiny for life in the world.  Babies with beautiful souls and eternal spirits and no breath.  Babies who spent minutes, hours maybe, here on earth.

There are parents who have not met their child.  Parents who knew the child was on the way, and parents who didn't.  Parents who found out later, or who knew right at the moment, that a tiny life was leaving this planet and going to "a better place."

Some of these parents have children on earth, and are told to "just be thankful for the children you do have."  As if they do not have, and never had the child or children that are already in heaven.  As if one child replaces another.

Some of these parents do not have children on earth, and are told to "just be thankful you don't have to do the work of parenting.  Be thankful you can do whatever you want."  As if raising their children would have been hurtful.  As if they didn't want to raise their child.  As if pain and sadness were what that parent really wanted.

Today, I ask you to do something with us.  With these parents who have children who don't live on earth, but live forever in heaven.  You may or may not be one of these, but that doesn't change my request. 

Picture us in heaven, with our children.  Don't worry about getting the hair color or eye shapes or smiles all right.  I suspect that in heaven, these things are not going to be so important.  Just picture us together.  See that in your heart.  And remember this togetherness, in perfection for all eternity.  Remember this is what His perfect will is. 

I leave you with this... an image generated by a just-for-fun website.  If aging were to proceed in heaven as it does on earth, our children would be four years and seven months; four years and two months; three years and nine months (twins); three years and four months; and our recent twins were due in August of this year. 

Truth is, it hurts.  It always hurts.  But when I close my eyes, and picture our family of nine walking through eternity together, it hurts less.