No. No. No. The state troopers had finally figured out where Jacob was—the morgue. Would we lose Caleb too? Oh, God. Please, no. We can’t lose them both in one night.
Having survived stage 4 cancer, Jenny Leavitt thinks she’s endured the greatest test of her life. Little does she know that her worst nightmare is still to come. In a single moment, a collision with a drunk driver takes the life of her seventeen-year-old son and leaves her remaining son clinging to life with catastrophic injuries. Jenny and her husband, Myron, never intended to walk this road through the valley of the shadow of death, but life often doesn’t work out the way we plan.
Jenny’s life experiences have positioned her as a reluctant expert on sorrow, the pains of life, and battling hell with all you’ve got. But in those shattered places, she finds evidence that God still had his hands on her life. Join Jenny on the dark road with a faithful God who is true to His word in times of joy and times of testing. You’ll see his GodPrints everywhere.
It is a true story, bookended on both sides with the hope that only comes from Christ.
The many evidences of finding hope in child loss.
ePilogue
the view was so stunning that I had to stop and stare
at the wonder—the awe—of it all. I’d just come through the most
glorious field I’ve ever experienced. Bold, vibrant flowers interspersed with tall, elegant amber stocks gently swaying back and
forth in the breeze. Beauty doesn’t even begin to capture the essence. Once, on a road trip through Kansas, I’d seen “amber waves
of grain” swaying in the wind.
I became aware of a delightful fragrance that floated to my
senses and reminded me of the beautiful wildflowers I’d seen when
I first arrived. Crisp, with a hint of something like citrus? There
was something else too—soothing lavender? Or maybe lilacs? For
someone like me who loves flowers, the scent was, well . . . heavenly.
But this. Oh, this was beyond anything my mind could ever
conceive—the splendor and majesty of it all.
But that wasn’t even the best part. No—the best part was that
awaiting me on the other side of the meadow—a welcoming party
like no other.
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People from all walks of life and every color of the rainbow
were there to welcome me. Some I recognized immediately—my
beloved son Jacob and my redeemer Jesus.
Others, though, I had to strain to remember . . . could that be
the man that I shared a brief word with? I remember telling him
that, “It’s not about church. It’s not about religion. It’s about Jesus.
He loves you and wants to heal those hurting, broken places inside
you. You can talk to him anywhere, you know? When you’re quiet
on your bed at night or when you’re feeling all alone. He loves you
and he cares. Just think about it.” I guess he did think about it
because he’s here too.
Somehow, I knew that there would be plenty of time for me
to learn each of their stories and why they were here to greet me.
That simple reunion was already a balm for my weary soul. But
this. Oh, this.
As I crested the little rise, I stopped right there as the view took
my breath away.
Home.
I’m finally home.
The very place my soul has been craving all along.
No words can adequately describe what I witnessed as I stood
there attempting to drink it all in.
Up ahead was an archway—glowing and glistening in iridescent light. Flanking each side were stone walls stretching as far as
the eye can see in either direction. The whole thing seemed almost
alive as if it glowed with a pulse all its own.
As I came closer, and the view inside the gate came into focus, I
became aware of the sounds and scents that were luring me onward
too. Laughter—raucous, belly-hurting laughter—floated over the
walls to my ears. Music and singing.
Joy. It’s like the sound of joy swept into my being and became
a force of its own.
And the smells. Oh, they tantalized my senses, bringing my
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appetite roaring to life. Some delicious roasting aroma wafted over
to me and caused me to pause right there and breathe in deeply,
capturing the scent of pure, delighted satisfaction.
Slowly, I became aware of other wonderful scents too. I’ve never
savored frankincense before, but somehow, I knew that’s what the
fragrance was. Not a suffocating, overwhelming odor—but soothing. Inviting me to sit a spell and linger in its restorative powers.
I realized I had completely stopped, right there outside the
beautiful gate.
Who was waiting for me inside? What was waiting for me on
the other side of that threshold?
As I stood there, still dumbfounded to finally be home, Jacob
appeared. It startled me at first because he had not been there a moment ago. I quickly adjusted though as a calm reassurance rested
my heart and reminded me that this is the way of my new home.
Home. My new home.
As Jacob reached for my hand and began tugging me forward,
practically skipping down the street through that awe-inspiring
gate, I almost stumbled as I caught my first glimpse of what was beyond the archway. So much had been hidden beyond those walls.
Walls that I thought resplendent paled in comparison to the absolute wonder in front of me.
As far across the horizon as I could see, the city stretched. All
at once, it looked like pictures I’d seen of ancient cities with cobblestone streets. Wait. Did the street just shine? No, it’s more like
the stones winked at me in their brilliance. The walls of the houses
and shops looked like ancient Middle Eastern dwellings with their
carved-from-nature appearance. Yet, on second glance, so much
more inviting and welcoming. Even more—the color! Such a burst
of color—everywhere: Flowers, banners, signs, curtains flapping in
the gentle breeze blowing through open windows. Cheerful voices
of shared conversations floated through open doorways.
People of all shapes, sizes, and complexion strolled down the
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streets, pausing occasionally as if on a leisurely vacation, to peruse
merchandise or be regaled with a shopkeeper’s tale.
Occasionally an animal darted, unnoticed, down a side street
or two. Dogs, cats, was that a lion that just bounded across the
road? My heart leaped inside of me until I noticed that no one
seemed to care. No one even seemed to take note. The lion continued and then disappeared around a corner. All this time, life moved
forward, which was odd to me. I began to shrug in amazement as a
hand clasped mine once again.
“Mom.”
Almost in impatience, but in more of a humoring tone, as if to
say, “I know—pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
“Mom, come here. I want to show you something.”
I blinked to clear my thoughts and refocus. For a moment
there, I’d been completely absorbed in drinking in the astonishing
sights around me that I had not even heard Jacob speaking to me.
Jacob? Oh, yes! Jacob!
“What was that, son?”
“Look!” he cried out, as he turned me around—pivoting me
away from the view that captivated me.
“Are those mountains in the city?”
“What? Oh, yeah! Mom, the city is huge. It goes on for days
and days. I’m not sure how far away those mountains are. I haven’t
been there . . . yet.”
While he turned me around, I glanced once more at the distant
peaks, twinkling in dotted snow. They seemed to reflect radiance from
. . . where? Not the mountain’s top, as they would if they were reflecting the sun. Hm. It’s like they glowed from light all around them.
“C’mon, Mom.” Jacob chuckled as he finally succeeded in getting me completely turned around. I wanted to stay right there, in
the middle of the street, soaking it all in. Why was he turning me
around? What could possibly be so striking behind me that could
rival such beauty before me?
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As I turned, my jaw dropped in astonishment. On the backside
of those magnificent walls—who looks at the backside of a wall?—
was art beyond compare. To call it a mural is a grave injustice.
Turning to the left and right, I could see artisans positioned with
their materials every so often all along my field of vision. Each
one was diligently at work on their portion of this masterpiece.
No craftsman’s supplies were the same as another’s: some chiseled,
some painted, some engraved, some sketched. Some were even
weaving fabric or cloth of some sort into the wall itself. You would
think it would be gaudy, but the overall effect was stunning.
Beautiful humming resonated through the atmosphere as each
slowly and meticulously crafted a portion of the wall into a unique
work of art. Somehow, though, each individual design was intricately woven into the designs around it in a seamless fashion.
Yet again, I was snapped out of my dazed stupor as Jacob
grinned and pulled me forward.
“Wait until I show you what Grandad and I have been working
on. The King says it will all be finished by the time the Wedding
Supper of the Lamb begins.”
As he dragged me onward, almost dancing in excitement, I
shook my head and chuckled to myself this time.
Wedding Supper of the Lamb? These are things I’ve read about,
heard about, even taught Sunday school children about. But I’m
here. And it’s really happening.
“The King says that it’s almost time too. All who have been
invited are on their way. Just as soon as the last one who accepted
the invitation arrives, the celebration begins.”
My feet left the pavement for the luscious, grassy hillside embankment that led to a distant spot along the wall. Jacob continued
to tug me onward with, “C’mon.”
The soft grass seemed almost alive and life-giving itself. I
glanced around, not wanting to miss a chance to drink in a different view of this incredible place. Indescribable. Like the plains of
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Africa on a safari that I’d been on before. But . . . there. That latest
view of the landscape brought to mind the charming country park
near where we lived once.
Little lakes dotted the area where even more people were . . .
fishing? Yes.
And the trees. Oh, the trees were glorious in their own right.
Each tall, majestic one was different, yet marvelous to behold. I
stood still for a moment contemplating exactly what kind of fruit
hung on the low branches near me.
Suddenly, I was being pulled forward again with another,
“C’mon. It’s just over this little rise, Mom. We’re almost there.”
At that moment, it’s like all else faded away and a thought
thunderbolted through my mind—sharp and precise in its clarity.
Another walk in another park, many years before.
It almost seemed like a distant, elusive memory that I couldn’t
quite make out completely. More like a grainy flashback, yet it remained.
Wandering through a park before, getting lost in thoughts
tumbling through my mind.
That park was a place of death though. A final resting place for
the shells of precious souls who completed their earthly journey.
But this? This place was life. Life everywhere.
Then I just knew. I knew that I could spend all of eternity exploring this place and never grow bored. I could spend millennia
talking with Moses, Rahab, Mary Magdalene, and Simon Peter and
never scratch the surface of all the insight I could glean.
Even more so, though, I knew that my deepest longing, the
desire of my heart, had been met in this place.
I am known and I am accepted.
I am loved and I belong here.
My beautiful Savior has made a way for me to be here—forever.
I can’t wait to see what else awaits me just over the rise.