Sometimes – no, often – God speaks valuable lessons through my children.

We had dropped her brother off at school, and were driving across town when she yells from the back seat, “Stop, Mommy!”  

I can see his eyes big as saucers, even through the dark.

He chooses bedtime to ask me questions about heaven (Yes – I know he’s stalling, but a mama can’t pass up this opportunity to speak truth to a young heart, can she?).

“How do I think about God when I’m praying?”

I tell him to picture God on His throne in heaven … which naturally leads to all manner of questions. How big is God’s throne? What does God look like? Is He old? How many angels are there? What are they singing to God? How do they bow down? Like this? (pause while he jumps out of bed and demonstrates how to bow)

I tell him about the throne room, with Christ sitting at the right hand of the Ancient of Days; the myriad of angels chanting worthy is the Lamb; the four living creatures and the elders bowing down.  

The questions continue. Where is heaven? Is it in space? How long will it take to get there? How does God get us there – do we fly?

I talk about our physical bodies that we leave here, and our spirits that go to be with God quicker than you can snap your fingers (pause while he practices snapping his fingers), and our one-day-glorified bodies (at which point he comments that he likes his body the way it is and he’ll pass on a new one).

The questions continue and I do my best to keep up.

How can one so young comprehend what no eye has seen or ear has heard when his mama can’t even fully grasp what is waiting for us?

Sometimes the here and now seems so much more real than heaven. The things this world often seem much more tangible and able to satisfy than a far-off-eternity.

The lure of riches, the pursuit of bigger and better – which is perfectly acceptable in our western culture – is the trap I so easily fall into.

But …

… we have brought nothing into the world, so we cannot take anything out of it either.   ~ 1 Timothy 6:7 (NASB)

 

The Bible says the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil, and I shrug. I don’t love money. Ah yes – but I do love what money can buy. The bigger house. The fancier vacations. Happiness?

I know it’s not true, but sometimes I allow the glitz and glitter of the world to blind me to the truth of God’s Word. And then the deceitfulness of riches chokes out the word as I begin to trust in it instead of in God.

We are to flee from those things – the love of money – and instead pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, perseverance and gentleness.

What would it look like for me to pursue godliness above anything else in this world? What if I really understood that this life is a vapour?

What if the eyes of my heart were big with wonder and amazement, like my son, at the thought of an eternity in His presence?

How would that change the way I live today?

What about you – how would that change the way you live?

I tell him one more question, because now it’s well past his bedtime.

“How big is heaven?” he asks.

“The city where we will live is a cube, like this,” my hands trace a square in the dark. “It’s has the same length, and width, and height. Fifteen hundred miles. Big enough for all the people who have ever loved God to live.”

“How many people will be there?”

“I don’t know, buddy.”

“Two hundred?” he asks.

I laugh now. “Way more than that. Good-night.”

“Mom, one more question …”

I pause in the doorway.

“Is a trillion a number?”

“Yes it is. Maybe there will be a trillion people in heaven.”

I turn to go, but then stop. I love his child-like faith and I just need to ask.

“Mason, will you still love God when you are 33?”

It’s his turn to laugh, barely believing that he will ever be so old. “Yes, Mom.”

There may be a trillion people in heaven, but this Mama’s hopes and prays her children are there too.

 

Lest you think our little Valentine’s Dinner was perfect …

please view Exhibit A:

When our son asked me to read the handwritten love note I had created for him, I eagerly took the paper and may or may not have leaned over to him, and may or may not have moved the paper much too close to the tea light causing it to begin to burn.

At that point I may or may not have yelled my husbands name, while waving the flaming paper wildly trying to extinguish the flame, spewing paper ashes all over the freshly decorated cupcakes and newly whipped cream.

At which point my husband grabbed the note and ran it to the sink to put out the fire with water.

Then the little one started crying.

And my boy threw his arms around me and told me it was ok. He loved it anyway.

Nothing like demonstrating my burning love for my family!

Not exactly the lovely Valentines dinner I imagined, but certainly good for a laugh!

Sometimes those closest to us know us better than we know ourselves.