"This is not the End": MY STORY OF PERSPECTIVE

This is not the end.
This is not the end of us.
We will open our eyes wide – wider.
This is not our last – this is not our last breath.
We will open our mouths wide – wider. (Gungor - "This is Not the End") 

My, at the time, 2 year-old daughter became obsessed with this song. We would listen to the rhythmic beat on repeat – sometimes 20 times in a row. Each time I would bite back tears – the words simply too close. I would stare through the rearview mirror at my precious girl – heartbroken over her suffering.

At the start of her illness was great confusion and panic.
Epilepsy?
Some sort of seizure disorder?

A metabolic issue?

We finally settled on severe hypoglycemia; the treatment would be a special diet and careful attention to the amount of time between eating. However, just as we became comfortable with the handling of this, came the severe eczema, allergies, alarming hair loss & enlarged lymph nodes. Lethargy followed. As did her near constant shivering. And, though the suffering and fear increased – still came her song:

"This is not the end."

If we spoke during this time and if you knew me well I would often say, through tears, this song was a gift. Though listening to the same song 20 times on-end was annoying – the near constant reminder that all that was happening was not “it” became perspective altering. Her suffering was not the final word. In what could have been (and if I’m honest, often was) a hopeless time, the Lord sent these words to give us something we were desperate for but could not give to ourselves: hope.

For, we do not grieve as those without hope. (1 Thessalonians 4:13) 

The Lord brought this period of trial to mind this morning to remind me. I say “remind” because this trial, for the most part, has passed. She no longer plays this song on repeat and most days I do not hunger, as I did, for the hope these words provided. You see, as the suffering subsided so did my longing. And as I sit here, though I am incredibly grateful for the healing that has occurred, I find myself missing this time when Heaven and eternity, with my God, seemed reachable.

Touchable.
Knowable.
Faced with the mortality of my daughter, the Lord gave me a gift: His incredible nearness. Heaven was a mere breath away. Some days, early on - when things were particularly unknown, Heaven seemed palpable – the veil pulled back to reveal: This truly is not the end.

I long to live this reality because, suffering or thriving this is Truth. May I know this in the deepest part of me and may it inform everything I do.

May I feel free to welcome the 'stranger among us' knowing the Lord has already prepared me a home – with him.
May I give generously knowing my Lord has already provided everything I need – in Him.
May I love and extend grace - without fear - knowing that death and loss do not get the final word - my God does.

Lord, thank-you for your sacrifice. Your death and resurrection made a way for hope. And no matter what happens here – this is not the end. Oh, happy day!