The Grandbaby I Didn’t Know I Had Until it Was Too Late

Loss and grief

In January, I heard something quiet in my heart: You have a grandchild in Heaven. And I received an unshakable sense immediately afterward that the little guy was in Jesus’ arms, even as my Lord spoke.

I was standing in the middle of the kitchen at the time. “Huh?” I pulled a pan out from the cupboard. I rubbed my head—wow, maybe I really needed to eat. But I shook my head rapidly. Two kiddos are married—the others are not. But middle kiddo and wife had already maintained a successful pregnancy, resulting in my precious J, who just turned a big four!

Could it be one of our other three? Oh boy.

I made dinner, of course, doubting that what I heard was accurate, and not my active imagination…er…writer’s brain. Even though it had sounded a lot like my Lord.

Two parts of my head argued. The voice had resonated with the same deep peace I’ve learned to recognize as His voice—gentle, but unmistakably authentic. Hmmm, trying to explain it, I can only say that it feels like a deep sense of assurance. As if someone is stating a fact, one with no arguments possible. He is often brief, just as He was this time. But I get that—I am also task-oriented. :-) And hey, I know He has plenty to do. LOL.

What was I supposed to do next? I honestly wanted to figure it out and quickly (yes, my curiosity has not changed since my near-death experience—maybe it’s increased). What about a group text? Ha! That was obviously the wrong tactic. Personalized text to each kid?

Better.

Obviously not. But what if no one ever confirmed it? What was I left with, as Nana? And hubby, as Gpa?

Didn’t I have the right to grieve, too? If this truly were the case?

You Will be OK, Julie

And then He whispered, “You will be OK.”

That particular phrase is on repeat. About twenty-two years ago, He told me this for the first time as I stared in the mirror after a disabling car accident when I was both in pain myself, and also caring for a spouse who was disabled and in pain. I felt at the end of my rope, caring for three kids and trying to earn a living from home for the whole household. That time, He said it aloud. Yup. One kiddo came into the bathroom after they knocked and asked who the man was they’d heard in there with me. HA!

And oh, good—that means the kiddos sometimes heard Him too.

Since then, He’s repeated those words to me—not out loud, but as a quiet whisper to my heart. After my EDS diagnosis, during a few allergic reactions when I truly wondered if I was about to meet Him face-to-face, and through every health scare since—even when the doctor’s expression says, “I’m sorry, this doesn’t look very hopeful.”

In those moments, it’s comforting to know deep down: I’m going to be OK. There’s Someone greater in charge of my life. (Though I don’t usually say it quite like that.)

Someday, it really will be my time to go Home and stay. Maybe I won’t hear those words then—“You’re going to be OK.” Maybe it’ll be another diagnosis that brings me there… though, oddly, I’ve always had a strange feeling it’ll involve a train—but that’s a story for another time.

When the moment comes, I hope I hear something. Maybe how much He’s been looking forward to seeing me. Maybe a gentle promise that this time, I get to stay. Or maybe I’ll feel the presence of angels sent to bring me safely Home.

“OK, Jesus. I am going to be OK. Once again. You’ve got me. You’ve got us.”

A Resolution

I might never know more. I decided to hold His whispers close to my heart and reflect on them. A few days later, when I was once again considering reaching out, he cautioned me—my role was not to react, not to approach, not to question, not to hint, not to be selfish in my desire to know more, but just to wait. Ugh. It was frustrating to not be able to comfort one/two of my kiddos. And perhaps their siblings and the grand-kiddo siblings, too.

Waiting often sucks. But there is always a reason for it.

I remembered that He said I would be OK either way. I trust that. After all, He has been right each time!

Little Ones in Heaven

Recently, I read my fifth account of people seeing little ones and the preborn in Heaven, and I knew it was time to share my grief (and hope) with you. I’ve been wavering about it for over three weeks now. Despite writing deadlines, pushing out Innocent Souls, and facilitating Cascade Christian Writers through our amazing summer conference (and recuperating - whew!), my heart continued to grieve. And finally, He said, “Share.”

So here I am.

An online friend who had an NDE when she was ten says this: “…I saw mountains, forests, hills, and everything. I saw animals, the baby nursery, the golden brick pathways that lead you to mansions…”

And another, very powerful one: “…Each area in Heaven had it’s own purpose, and it’s own beauty…one was The Nursery. A sacred space where babies—those lost to miscarriage, abortion, or health complications—are nurtured by loving guides until they spiritually grow into adulthood…”

Jesus told Robert Marshall that He keeps them at a newborn age (even if preborn) or the age they are after birth, when they died, until one critical time period. That is when the mothers join them. You see, God recognizes that moms, in particular, need this time with their kids, and He cares for them gently until Mom arrives and is ready to raise their child up. In the meantime, she has as much time as she needs with her baby.

My mother’s heart weeps at the thought of this.

The book “Imagine Heaven” by John Burke also has some testimonials. “I saw a bright, bright light very quickly,” one NDE’er reports. “And then a beach. I saw my mom and my daughter standing on the beach. My daughter died when she was two, but she had grown up.”

In the same book, Vicki Ring, blind since birth, saw her blind schoolmates who had died years before at ages eleven and six. “They were no longer blind. They were bright and beautiful. And they were no longer children…but in their prime.”

Confirmation Was Difficult

In March, my son and his wife visited and then, after some hesitation, told me they’d miscarried. Just past the first trimester—so a fully formed little one. I had pretty much put it aside at that point, and it shocked me into tears, although I held them back until I was alone. If God hadn’t already prepared me—I suspect I would have been much more emotional at the news.

But He had. Because He knows me and loves me.

A baby I never got to hold—but who was already held. By the One who made him. One we’ve since named A.

Last week, I heard Phil Wickham’s new song, "Homesick for Heaven," and, of course, had to add it to my Heaven Playlist. Phil knows something—and I can’t tell you what. It’s much like when I returned from the gates and could discern who knew “more” from personal experience and who didn’t. I still read scripture and understand that in Bible times, too, some people knew just a bit more than many of us do today.

They are speaking from another POV.

Phil mentions how he wants to see his children run to Jesus. He expresses how I feel when I long for Heaven and to once again stand beside Jesus. How “homesick” I still feel sometimes. I love the part in the official video when he drops his bike and coat, and crazy-runs to the gates with his arms flailing. Oh man, that made me smile! Heck, yeah! And yay — someone alive gets it!

Somebody gets me.

God gently prepared my heart in advance for the loss of my grandchild. What a tender mercy, even amid sorrow. That kind of experience—hearing from God and then seeing it unfold—is holy ground.

My Siblings

I have two siblings in Heaven. One passed five years ago, and the other before being born. I know my brother greeted my grand kiddo at the gates and is helping care for him now. Rick knows who this little one is, the relation, and my grief. As he didn’t hesitate to step up for my kids when they were young, he also didn’t hesitate to step up to care for his little descendant...er…grand nephew (wow!). I suspect my other sibling is involved, too, because I just know he or she and Rick are hanging out.

We will join them soon. In the meantime, Jesus obviously has prepared a place for each of us, no matter how small. A. is safe, played with, adored, whole, held— and if you have had a loss, your little one is too.

But I do have one request of you…if you’ve had this profound loss, know that you are not alone. And when you can talk about it, I hope that you will consider telling your mama.

You knit me together in my mother’s womb… all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. Psalm 139:13-16 NIV

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Joshua 1:5 NIV