Joy

There is a fine line between joy and sorrow.  It’s what changes weeping to laughing and back again with the wiping of a tear.  I crossed that line back and forth many times this evening.  When I heard my sister’s voice on my voicemail I knew without words that my mother had left us to cross over and to join her Savior. 

On the ride to the rehab facility where she has been only three days I was mournful knowing my mother is gone.  But a feeling of pure joy overcame me in an instant and I jumped the line.  The joy was not my joy but hers.  It was like an explosion inside my head.  For a second or two I felt what she must have felt to be welcomed to heaven by my daddy, and my sister.  Then she would see her three sisters and two brothers and her parents who all went before her.  I could see them all, together and happy and laughing and hugging. 

Seeing her lying there in her bed I again I jumped back over the line and felt remorse.  My tears, though, were selfish tears for myself and my family, not for her.  I only have happiness that her soul is free from the broken body and clouded mind that bound her to a wheelchair and most lately, a hospital bed. 

No, my tears for my mother are not in sadness.  The only tears I shed for my mother are tears of joy.  My mother is in heaven.  She will hurt no more, cry no more, worry no more.  Instead she will exult in the glory of God from now until eternity.