This flower pot is a perfect visual for how I have felt the past few days.

Frozen.

No words to share.

None.

I had a little meltdown last night because I was in so much pain and felt so tired of feeling so incapable of doing much more than alternating from laying on my left side and then my right.

Thankfully, Martha came by and determined that I needed an antibiotic.

Thankfully, my doctor called one in for me.

Thankfully, Tim picked it up last night. 

Thankfully, it seems to be working.  The throbbing seems to be lessening.  My eyes and back don't seem to be aching.

Thankfully, the sun is shining and maybe that fact alone is causing something inside of me to stir.

I've been reading a lot.

I read the entire book I mentioned yesterday called, Heaven is For Real.  I had mixed emotions as I read about the four-year old boy's journey through emergency surgery and then his revelation of all the things he said he saw when he met Jesus.  I had mixed emotions reading about how God had answered the family's prayers and saved the boy's life.  It's times like these that make me realize how far I still have to go in my healing process from losing Nick.

Reading that God heard this little boy's father's prayers to save His son and then knowing that God answered the prayers with a "yes" causes something inside of me to feel uncomfortable, jealous, confused, hurt, and somewhat betrayed.

I'm just being honest.

Deep inside as I read about the amazing things the boy told his parents, I did find comfort knowing that Nick is there with Jesus....

But another part of me wished Nick could have been the child chosen to see all of these things and then come back to tell us all about them.

As I wrestled last night with my immature feelings and self-pity, I couldn't sleep.  I wished I had talked to Nick more about what he might be seeing in those last new months.  I wished I had listened more when things were quiet and I was alone with him..wondering if he was experiencing amazing and wonderful things but just didn't know  how to tell me without scaring me.  All kinds of emotions ran through me last night as I was hurting and feeling blue.

I ended up taking medicine to help me with my pain and then venturing into some simple cleaning tasks like dumping out baskets of assorted items like paper clips, erasers, stamps, ink pens, headphones, etc. and organizing them into separate containers.  Simple little tasks I could do without help.  There's something about tackling things like baskets of clutter that brings a sort-of therapy that nothing else can bring.  I can't control a lot of things right now in my life, but baskets of junk seem conquerable....

As I went through basket after basket, I came across something that took my breath away.

It was Nick's Junior High Challenge notebook from 2007, the summer after his intense chemo when we thought we had won the fight with his brain cancer........ 

the month before we found out he had yet another tumor and the road before us became bleaker and bleaker with every passing month........

the last July we would spend with Nick without hearing the words, "There's nothing more we can do."

The first words I read in his notebook were these,

"I want to go home."

Now, I know these words were referring to our earthly home, because Nick didn't feel very good that week.  But the funny thing was that Tim and I were both sponsors for this trip.  We were with Nick the whole time, yet he still wanted to go home.  He loved our house.  He loved being here.  This was his place of comfort and rest even if it meant not being with me and Tim.

I think Heaven is like that for Nick.

He's Home.

He's resting.

He's more than comfortable,and even though Tim and I aren't there yet...

He's happy to be home.

As I opened the notebook at 2 a.m. last night, I read his sermon notes and I want to share them all with you one day.  They were precious.

But for today, I'll share his answer to the question, "What did you learn about yourself today?"

His answer was this,

"When the music starts, my heart just wants to sing."

As I read these words, a smile grew across my face as I saw Nick's sweet face like it always was during worship time at church.  His little eyes closed and his face looking up.......totally focused on Jesus.  Nick loved to sing.

I remembered the morning Nick died and how he had not given any signs of hearing us or been able to make any kinds of sounds for almost two days and how suddenly he had begun to hum over and over and over again.....

and then he was gone.

Mom said, "Tammy, he was singing."

And I know he was!

Our family room has never felt like it did that morning.

Full of something so powerfully electric that the pressure on my skin was indescribable.  And as soon as Nick took his last breath, the room was like a vacuum.  Empty. The feeling of pressure gone.

Oh, I believe that room was packed with angels that day singing.

I believe that when the music started, Nick's heart began to sing.

Oh, I believe.

So, as I look at the book beside me called, "Heaven is For Real," I am thankful that God loved me enough to send me to a basket last night that has been so close to me for over 3 years yet so untouched and that He was able to leave a message in that basket from Nick to me for the night that I needed it so badly.

I know that the flower pot in the picture above will eventually thaw and that this spring I will plant something beautiful inside it.

I know that just as surely as winter becomes spring, death becomes life again.

Yes, Heaven is for real.

I feel the icicles dripping in my heart today, and I am thankful.

Thank you for loving me through a very deep freeze.

Praying your day is full of sunshine that melts away the things that may be holding you back from blooming into all God longs for you to be,