Where Love Is...

C and I went Friday to see a friend. We knew that she wasn't well. Her husband met us
with hugs, and a smile, and a greeting that was not quite expected. "She's not the same as you girls knew. She looks different now, but she'll love you just the same."

C smiled, and said, "We'll love her right back."

We went to her. We held her hands, and rubbed her arms. We smoothed her hair, and said things that you don't speak out loud. The room was filled with peace. Friends were there.
Family was there. Someone looked looked at C and said, "Will you sing? She would love it if you sang."

So she sang with her eyes closed, and her beautiful voice echoed down the hall. I joined in, and others followed suit. The room filled with more visitors, friends and family. The kleenex box was passed around. Hands were held. Hugs were given. The songs were favorites. Songs of hope, and of anticipation.

And, as people sang, she was laying back on the bed, eyes still closed, listening to every song,
every word and phrase, and though she could not sing with her mouth, with spoken words, she could sing with her heart. She raised her hands, with the help of others, and at moments entirely of her own strength, up to the person she knew to be the ultimate healer.

In the house, the rooms were filled with love. We sat with her brothers and other friends and family around the table, and I imagined a living picture that happens frequently. The laughter, the singing, the certainty with which they try to convince one brother that he was adopted, and the love. Filling and swirling around the room, around the house, love lived there, and
will live there still.

She met our Jesus on Friday night. Emma did. Hours after we left. She breathed in one last time, and went to be with Him. She met Him in that place where there is no pain, no sickness,
no tears. She met Him, and yesterday and today she walks with Him down the golden streets,
and alongside the crystal sea.

She now lives where Love is...