Last night Elsa, Heidi and I slept in Eric's room. His posters, medals, trophies and plaques still silently salute his many gifts, interests, and accomplishments. His collection of Eagles are Heidi's favorite. When I look around, I am tesseracted back to childhood. To when there were bunkbeds with bright green coverlets and plush blankets. To waking up and hearing Eric and Kendall yelling "He was here! Santa was really here!" To sprawling out as teenagers talking about school and Star Wars and ordering pizza.And then I had this dream. We are all laughing together, in a lodge-like room with animal skins on the floors, antlers poking from the walls. Fir trees are visible through the windows. We are gathered around a tomb or a box, Acacia wood. It is empty. The room smells like incense, Cedar. It is firelight. For some reason Edie and her kids are there with us. And then in walks Eric, fresh from the war, alive and bright and golden and laughing. We find out that it was a tragic mistake. He didn't really die; a computer glitch or something was the fault. Oh, how we laughed and cried. Oh, how we hugged him, how we touched him. His hands were the same: small, paw like, always so scarred, with big watches on his wrists. He was in uniform and carrying a pack. He had come such a long, long way.
For just a moment, in my dream, it was like a weight had been lifted. Everything was all right. It could be undone. It could all be undone. And it was all so bright, so fun, so real. We didn't even realize that we had been walking around with such a heavy weight, but now we could actually stand up again, freed from our burden of grief.
I woke to Heidi crying. She had tumbled out of bed. "my forehead hurts," she whispered before she went to sleep.
He so loved the stories of Aslan. I am comforted now by the image of a Lion walking among stone statues, breathing them back to life. I'm not sure exactly what theological eschatological position we Presbyterians take on the Life to come. Perhaps, Eric, you are asleep in Jesus. Perhaps you are standing in the Great Cloud of Witnesses. But I know you are in the presence of the Lord, oh, how I am comforted by his grace and kindness.
I am comforted by resurrection and the Life Everlasting. I am comforted by the fellowship of the Saints, of the Forgiveness of Sins, by the voice of my little sister and the laughter of those I love still here. I am comforted by an Empy Tomb.
Give Thanks to the Lord for He is good. His love endures forever.
