Do not weep for him, he is having the time of his life
I waited to walk until the wind and clouds cooled things off this evening and as I walked, I thanked the LORD for the beauty of the clouds and colors and Little Mac came into my mind. Maybe because he would have been 55 on the 21st. I don’t know. But I thanked the LORD for my 1st little boy, my 3rd child. He was a clown as the picture indicates. And I thanked GOD for sparing my laughing little one from the evils that face the children of today.
Thinking of all this I felt I should tell you how I learned how to trust GOD.
Mac’s job ended in California and when he couldn’t find work Mac followed the urgings of his brothers and we moved to Colorado. I didn’t know anyone except Mac’s family who were not very friendly. Like others who didn’t get to know me, they thought I was stupid since due to my profound hearing loss I often misunderstood so answered in strange ways.
We had not completely unpacked yet from the move and it had been a long day. Mac was at a Union meeting, I put the girls to bed, but for some reason I let Little Mac stay up a little longer. He was just seven months and 23 days old. “Pinky,” as his dad called him, was playing in my pots and pans on a low shelf around the corner in the kitchen. HE scooted (he did not crawl on his knees, he scooted) into where I was on the couch. For the first time ever, he pulled himself up to a standing position and hanging on to the edge of the coffee table, walked around it slowly laughing as he went until he came to me. Reaching up to me, I pulled him up into my lap and soon he was asleep. I tucked him into bed and went off to bed myself.
In the morning, as was his habit, my husband left me sleeping and went to check on the kids before making his coffee. He woke me moments later by handing me the cold, lifeless body of my son and saying, “Momma, the baby’s dead.”
Even though Mac told me he’d already tried, I struggled in an attempt to breathe life back into my son. When it didn’t help, I began to cry out to GOD. Although I knew how to pray, all that I could think to pray that moment was “Our FATHER who art in heaven, hallowed be THY name, THY kingdom come, THY will be done….” I could go no further for I knew without a doubt, don’t ask me how, but I really understood that this was the will of GOD to take my son to be with HIM in heaven.
Some react and say, “GOD would never do that!”
I Kings 14:6-13 tells of a little one taken, and the prophet says of him, “because in him there is found some good thing toward the Lord,”
Then in 2 Samuel 12:10-23 we are told of King David’s little one being carried into heaven.
The merciful landlord let us out of our lease, and we move right after Little Mac’s death. Then our daughter Kari turned three and while she was climbing in the back yard of our new place, a cinderblock fell off the fire pit and broke her leg. Then we learned our 6-year-old Jeri had begun sleepwalking when a neighbor pounded on our door in the middle of the night having Jeri’s in tow.
I felt like I was going crazy. I knew the only way to retain my sanity was to seek anew the GOD I met when I was 12 and living with my grandmother. For although I had called out to the LORD a few times since in desperate situations, basically I had ignored GOD since I moved up to live with my mother in Northern California when I turned 15. I was 24 at this time.
With my in-laws there to watch the girls, I ran down the street to a little church I’d seen there. I was hoping someone there would help me find my way back to GOD. But no one was there. Then a few splashes hit me in the face, and I realized that it had begun to sprinkle.
I looked up into the sky and saw a cloud formed in the shape of a great lion and a laughing baby on its back holding on to the lion’s flowing mane. Words penetrated my consciousness, “Don’t weep for him, he is having the time of his life. Weep for yourself and your daughters.”
Hearing the voice, peace enveloped me as I believed the words GOD had spoken into my spirit. “For faith comes from hearing and hearing by the word [rhema] of CHRIST” (Romans 10:17). There was no question, I knew Little Mac was having the time of his life and that brought me joy.
Many say that Little Mac’s life was wasted. I don’t believe it for a moment. Through Little Mac’s death I turned back to GOD with all that was within me and was radically changed. Plus, his dad upon seeing his son’s body in the casket declared, “This is not Pinky. That is not my son. The light is not there. It has to be somewhere.” Mac began believing in life after death and would one day come to believe in JESUS.
And when I have shared how GOD comforted me by forming a cloud and telling me my son was having the time of his life, many grieving gals have been encouraged and strengthened just as I was that day when the FATHER of mercies and the GOD of all comfort spoke those very words to me. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4). So, you see that though dead, Little Mac has an ongoing ministry, his life was not wasted! GOD uses all things for an end result of good to those who love HIM (Romans 8:28).
Hugs
Sharon Manning
wakemyear 