“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more” (Revelation 21:1, ESV).

I sat in a chair and watched her daughters and granddaughters lying around her on a king-sized bed as my mom wavered between earth and heaven. They stroked her in love and sang verse after verse of solid Christian songs like “Amazing Grace” and “Precious Lord Take My Hand.” I sat in wonder at the moment and place, like we were on a bridge between this life of touchable-being and the untouchable eternity that now I could reach over and grab. There was not so much the presence of one reality and a wish for the other, but an absolute truth of both, not so much like we were telling Mom goodbye and watching her cross the bridge—but more like we were walking across it with her, kissing her on the other side and handing her off to Jesus.

There is this hard line between our concrete reality and our desperate desire for the eternal that remains inaccessible with our five senses. We spend our lives on this side of the line, often feeling the presence of God and knowing the truth of the Scriptures but lacking the certainty that comes from experience. Rarely do we step within an eternal moment and know the truth of life by being there.

But sometimes we do.

One of those times came to me as I watched my mother cross over to Glory this week. Her greatest earthly treasures were there in the room with her, touching, kissing, singing, loving and telling her goodbye, while wanting her to stay. And then, in a very real way, heaven opened up. We walked into God’s palpable presence, placed her hand in His and let her go.

It was a moment when the dark glass was briefly and beautifully clear (1 Corinthians 13:12).

There are many reasons I am confident of heaven: Scripture, testimony, historical truth and more.

But my being there with Mom seals the deal for me.

Dear God,
Let me not forget this eternal moment.
Amen