Preparing for “Deployment”

From January, 2016

Continued from Flesh and Blood

In January (2016), a month after Roma died, I got an email from my daughter, Kellie. She wrote, “I had a dream about Roma last night. Honey (my mother who died in October, 2014) was there–actually we were at her house. We were all hugging Roma, saying goodbye and crying—we knew, but he was oblivious and happy.”

The image struck me with sadness. I had seen Roma’s look of oblivion Kellie was describing. Like he didn’t quite understand the seriousness of adults. He saw life a lot simpler than they did. That familiar look of oblivion always ended with an expression that resembled an eye roll, but not quite.

Then I recognized it! And I almost laughed. Roma in Kellie’s dream was not oblivious at all. Roma got it! We did not.

I typed back quickly in reply, “Roma was the only one who wasn’t oblivious! He’s wondering why we are crying! He is happy! I can feel it.”

Kellie typed right back, “You’re probably right about Roma being the only one who wasn’t  oblivious!” 

Even before Kellie’s short dream, I have been confident of Roma’s happiness in Heaven. He is, after all, in HEAVEN! Even while inhabiting broken planet Earth, Roma always made the most of difficult situations, moving on quickly from painful circumstances. One of his counselors when he was in middle school, an age many students find challenging, observed that Roma had the uncanny ability to turn a negative into a positive. Now there is no need for Roma to manufacture his sunny disposition. Roma is in Heaven. I can’t see Heaven or Roma, but I am getting little hints of Another World.

A familiar verse immediately comes to mind: “For now we see through a glass darkly, through a poor mirror, then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully.” Like Roma, as a new resident of Heaven, knows. But  we will not know, cannot know,  from this earthly perspective. 

As I looked up that appropriate verse just now to site it correctly, I discovered, or remembered, that it is in 1 Corinthians, the “Love Chapter,” the verse that immediately precedes, “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love, But the greatest of these is love.“

A few weeks after Kellie sent me the email about her dream, forty-five days after Roma’s personal rapture, I had my first dream, and so far the only clear dream I’ve had about Roma where we have verbally communicated. Before I share that dream, I want to remind readers of an earlier post, A Grace Refined. At the end of that post, I relate a story from one of our morning rides to meet Roma’s boss. He was telling me with a sense of urgency, that God loves the Jews, and wasn’t going to let anything happen to them. It was a bizarre statement, seeming to come out of nowhere. Later he took to Facebook, to sound the warning, sounding like an Old Testament prophet. November 13, he warned, “Oh we should be scared for what’s coming to this country and what God is capable of. Look out for the signs.” Those are thoughts I might have, but would never post on Facebook, But Roma was always bold.

Now here is my dream, which was so “real” and vivid. I woke still feeling the warm hug from my son, feeling as if we had truly visited in person. Thank you, Lord, for that Gift.  

The dream:

I was wandering around, aimlessly, at a festival of some kind, in an unfamiliar place. In a congested marketplace, I stopped occasionally to gaze at strange prepared food behind glass windows, and I thought I might be at a banquet or feast.

Suddenly, who was coming in the other direction, toward me, moving slowly in the sea of people? Roma in a military uniform! We tried to move toward each other through the dense barrier of people, bumping into people who were in our way. We embraced in the middle. It was immediately apparent that Roma, although he looked the same, was different. He was very manly, with an air of confidence and authority. Now I sense people who knew Roma are waiting for me to share how Roma was changed, because Roma always had an air of confidence and authority, even when I first laid terrified, yet adoring eyes on little self-assured seven-year-old Roma. 

But now he was different. He had grown into that bossiness assertiveness. He was a man of action and authority. I couldn’t help noticing other men were behind him, standing down. It was obvious Roma was their commander. Their boss. Of course he was. He had practiced on us for fourteen years. They paced, impatiently, but allowed us privacy. I don’t recall the details of my brief conversation with Roma, or what we were talking about before I sensed he was pulling away, getting back to business. 

I kept talking to keep his attention, even when he was glancing over his shoulder, preparing to rejoin his troops. I finally said, almost in desperation, “Roma, we can go through the whole adoption process again, if you can stay.” 

His eyes suddenly lit up with a solution he knew would satisfy his mourning mother. 

“Mom,” he held me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes, “I’ll meet you in Israel!”

In my mind I knew that was a set date, an appointed time in the not-so-distant future. Encouraged with this renewed hope, I smiled and said, relieved, “Okay! I’ll see you there.” I leaned into my son for one last tight embrace within his warm, strong arms, then Roma and his men continued on their journey. There my dream ended. 

I know Roma has a job in Heaven, one he loves, and it doesn’t involve harp strumming. He has no musical talents. But Roma has always been a leader. Roma has been preparing for his God-ordained job his entire short life. Occasionally seeing past the Veil between broken earth into glorious Heaven since Roma was “deployed,” I have had moments of peace and even joy.  The Spirit of God has been moving, confirming His Love. The Grand Story is still playing out. For me, this confirms that I too have an important job awaiting me in Heaven. And I will spend the rest of this life pointing to the Perfecter and Finisher of my Faith. This short life, among the ruins of this world, matters. It is preparation for Eternal Life. 

Praise God for He gives comfort to the grieving and eternal meaning to life. 

Continue. . . Boys and toys.