New Beginnings

Garrett lay in the warmth of the bright sunshine and watched beautiful butterflies flit from one flower to another. "This is the saddest day of my life," he said to his brother Wyatt, who was lying on the ground next to him. "Yeah, mine too," Wyatt said as he dug at the grass with a stubby piece of stick. "I can't believe Grandma died. She wasn't sick very long at all!""I know," said Garrett. "I miss her." The back door opened, and Mom came out carrying two glasses of juice. "Can I join you?" she asked as she handed each of them a glass. The boys scooted apart, and Mom sat down between them. She had been crying--her eyes were puffy and her nose was red. She closed her eyes and lifted her face toward the warm sun. "The sun feels so good, doesn't it? I'm glad God gave us such a beautiful day," she said as she looked around the yard. "Look at all those pretty butterflies!""I guess they hatched from these things," said Garrett, handing a couple of empty gray casings to his mother. "Grandma showed these to me a few days ago. She said the caterpillars in them would turn into butterflies."Mom smiled and nodded. "Those caterpillars have a new and better life now, don't they?" She put an arm around each of the boys. "Just like Grandma." Tears spilled onto Mom's cheeks. "She left her old, worn-out body, and now she's with Jesus in heaven. Someday her body will be resurrected and made all new and perfect. Can you imagine what she might do then?""I never thought about it before, but she told us she used to like running races," said Wyatt. "So she'll probably run a lot when she has a body that doesn't hurt from arthritis anymore.""Yeah!" said Garrett. "I never thought of Grandma being able to run. She always moved so slowly. Maybe she'll even do cartwheels!"Mom laughed. "Maybe. We can be sure she's happy and will never feel pain again." Mom wiped her eyes. "But it's still normal for us to feel sad and miss her. Just remember that since we all know Jesus as our Savior, we'll see Grandma again one day." –Deborah L. Whitsitt