Autism · Chronic Illness · Grace

Dreaming Of Heaven

When I think about dying, I worry.

Not for me, mind you. I tell my friends all the time, “When I die, I will be with Jesus. I’m good. Worry about my husband and the boys.”

Because our plan for long-term care, especially now that my son’s autoimmune diagnosis will require it, hinges on me being around for a while.

It is something I think about everyday –

“Should I buy this? Or put the money into savings for the future?”

“I need to work out more. I need to be able to lift him, even when I am old.”

“Take the vitamins, eat the kale, avoid the refined sugar – you’ve got a long life to live and a son to care for.”

I think it all the time.

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I read a post on Facebook the other day, written by a father with a son on the spectrum. He and his wife manage the page “Bacon and Juiceboxes: Our Life With Autism.” They are real, passionate, funny and genuine. They love their kids, they love each other, and they graciously share how they trying to figure this life out. They are my people.

Below is his post.


Dreaming of Heaven

I have this recurring dream. I dream that I die. I know, it’s morbid. But, stick with me a minute…

When I die I ascend to heaven and I’m embraced by God. He assures me that I will be able to continue to watch over my family and give them peace and comfort until they join me in their time.

He assures me that I will understand His plan in time and allows me to ask all of my burning questions about the universe.

In heaven decades pass in mere minutes and I proudly sit and watch my little girl grow up, find a loving husband and raise her family.

I am able to comfort my wife and help her to raise our son. God tells me that she knows I am there with her and can hear me whispering support and love as she guides him through his unique path in life.

I watch my son grow up. I sometimes feel helpless and angry as he faces life’s challenges. His hand-flapping and idiosyncratic noises continue into adulthood and draw occasional stares from the ignorant.

God assures me that He has a plan and that, in heaven, all of His creatures are perfect.

I trust God and patiently wait for the day when my son joins me, his hands still and his noises silenced.

One by one my family joins me in heaven.

First, my wonderful wife. Then, my beautiful daughter.

Finally, my son joins us. I run to embrace him, then I have to stop.

He stands there in heaven, excited by all the new sights and sounds, flapping his hands and jumping. I look to God and question Him.

“You said that all your creatures are perfect in Heaven.”

God smiles at me.

I hug my perfect son… for all eternity.

Mr Bacon and his little guy.
Mr. Bacon and his little guy.

His words are achingly beautiful.

His dream reminds me that maybe, just maybe, the future isn’t mine to see. Sure, I can plan – I need to plan, but I am not the one in charge here. Nor should I be.

There is something wonderful in that.

The release, the surrender, the freedom in taking this life as it is given – knowing that in the end, it will not be about all my careful planning and savings. It will not be about the job my son gets or if he ever gets one at all. It will not be about my health or his.

And, more than anything, the reminder that my son is fearfully and wonderfully made, just as he is.

In the end, what remains is what has always been.

Love.

 

4 thoughts on “Dreaming Of Heaven

  1. “After the Last Tear Falls” by Andrew Peterson

    After the last tear falls,
    After the last secret’s told,
    After the last bullet tears through flesh and bone,
    After the last child starves,
    And the last girl walks the boulevard,
    After the last year that’s just too hard,
    There is love…

    After the last disgrace,
    After the last lie to save some face,
    After the last brutal jab from a poisoned tongue,
    After the last dirty politician,
    After the last meal down at the Mission,
    After the last lonely night in prison,
    There is love…

    And in the end, the end is oceans and oceans of love and love again.
    We’ll see how the tears that have fallen are caught in the palms
    Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all.
    And we’ll look back on these tears as old tales.

    After the last plan fails,
    After the last siren wails,
    After the last young husband sails off to join the war,
    After the last ditch marriage is over,
    After the last young girl’s innocence is stolen,
    After the last years of silence that won’t let a heart open
    There is love…

    And in the end, the end is oceans and oceans of love and love again.
    We’ll see how the tears that have fallen are caught in the palms
    Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all.
    And we’ll look back on these tears as old tales.

    ‘Cause after the last tear falls, there is love…

  2. This is so beautiful! It is so hard to let go of that control. I know God is in charge, but I don’t know if I’ll like what he allows to happen! There are too many questions, too many things I don’t know. Instead, I need to accept the easier yoke of focusing on what I DO know – God is good, God is love, God loves my children. I guess that’s all I really need to know, anyways.

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