The Wonders

Journal Entry: April 6, 2018

As a mother with empty arms, I have many wonders that will forever go unanswered.  There are two wonders that will never leave me though.  Two wonders that I will have until my last day here on earth.  Two wonders I have had for 63 days now.

I wonder who you would have been.

I wonder what color your eyes would have been and how big of a baby you would have been if you had come on your due date.  Would you have quickly learned good sleeping habits, or kept me awake all night, for weeks on end?  What would your giggle sound like?  I wonder if you would have said mom or dad first.  What would you look like today?

What would your personality have been like?  I wonder if you’d be a people pleaser, like your dad and I both are.  Would you be easy going, like me, or little less easy going, like your dad?  Would you have been a daddy’s boy or mommy’s boy?  As much as I’d like to think you would have been a mommy’s boy, your daddy had so many big plans for the two of you.  I wonder if you would have been “all boy”, rough and tumble and playing with dirt and bugs, or maybe not so much?  Would you have feared snakes as much as your dad and I do, or would you have picked them up to joyfully show them to us?

What would you have liked more, football or baseball?  Would you have liked sports at all?  Maybe you would have enjoyed school and learning, more than sports.  I will never know.  Would you be a social butterfly like your dad, or more of an introvert, like me?  How long could I have smuggled hugs from you, before you decided you were too old to give your mom hugs?

What school subjects would have been your favorite; history, math or maybe science?  Would you have played sports or joined the quiz bowl team?  I wonder what it is you would have wanted to do when you grew up.  Would you want to be a doctor, or maybe a biologist?  I had such big hopes and dreams for you.

These things and so, so much more, I will forever wonder.  I wish I knew the sound of your voice, the feel of your touch and what amazing new thing you would be doing with your little body today.  I wish I could have watched you grow before my very eyes.


I wonder who you will be when I finally get to heaven and meet you?

When I get to heaven, how old will you be?  Will you still be a baby or will you be grown?  If you’ve grown, will you be ten or 30 or as old as you would have been here on earth, on the day that I leave it?  Will you tell me stories of Jesus and what it has been like to spend only a short time on earth and so long in heaven?  Will you teach me, or will there still be something I can teach you?

Will you be my first encounter in heaven, after I meet Jesus?  Will you be waiting for me, as soon as I arrive?  I wonder, if you’ve grown, will you tell me about your life in heaven, before I joined you?  Will we sit on a park bench, in the middle of a peaceful green meadow, watching movies reels of your life in heaven, before my arrival?  I can’t wait to embrace you and hear your voice.  Maybe, somehow, I will recognize your voice?

The wonder of who you would have been is the forever tear in my heart.  The wonder of who you will be, when I meet you in heaven, is the stitching that pulls the tear together.  Sometimes the tear is big and wide, but some days the stitching wins the battle.  I’ll never know who you would have been on earth, but I look so forward to the day I will meet you, on the other side of clouds.


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