Hello from Heaven

This week, we took a trip with our four small children. We were able to go to an older amusement park about two hours from home — a two-day trip that took every ounce of our energy and every spare dollar we had.

When I got back to work, a coworker said, "I hope you got some rejuvenation in."

"That's not quite what it was," I told her, "but I did stow away some sweet memories."

One of those memories was just for me. No one else would have noticed. I watched as my two sons rode one ride together, and my husband and daughter rode another. The park had been playing an odd mix of songs all day, no real genre or pattern to it, just upbeat.

Then a song came on. A familiar one — it reminds me of my early childhood, of my parents. Not because I actually remember those days, but because we have a few home videos where this exact song plays in the background: my mom taping herself and her babies in the early 90s. I can see her fixing her hair in the reflection, feeding one of us breakfast, while the song drifted out of a portable radio on the kitchen table.

I wish I could ask her why she wanted to capture that moment. But standing there, I think I already know — because I felt the same pull. I just wanted to pause. To remember. We get so busy living that we forget to stop and take it in.

I stood there in the blazing heat and humidity, a teardrop or two rolling down my cheek. I didn't wipe them away. I just let them roll.

I haven't had my Momma and Daddy in a long time. Too long.

We only took about two trips as a family, that I can recall — one to this same town, and one to Disney World.

In that moment, none of it mattered. Not the heat, not the exhaustion of trying to teach our children respect and obedience in what often feels like an uphill battle, not how little spending money we had left. It felt like a little wink from my Momma.

These babies won't be this way for long.

I looked down at my fourth baby — my sweet little girl that everyone says looks just like me. I was my Momma's fourth, too.

I don't get to see them anymore. Not physically. But every so often, I get a moment like this one — a sweet hello from Heaven. I don't have the theology for this, I just now how it captivates me every so often.

(Wearing my husband's tennis shoes so I could ride the one ride I wanted to!)