Emma's Gift (37 page)

“Couldn't a' been done,” Lizbeth said, “without Emma an' Mama. We miss 'em. We'll always miss 'em, but good's come.”

Yes. Good's come.

This world has its time to weep and time to laugh. Time to mourn, time to dance. Not long ago, I didn't think we'd ever dance. But then one night early in the spring, Barrett came by just to bring us his old battery radio. Didn't work anymore, he'd said. He had an inkling, I think, that Samuel could fix it. And he did fix it. But the Posts claimed they didn't need it back. So we turned it on that first Saturday night and got some bubbly horn music and toe-tapping rhythm.

Little Emma Grace on her tiny, tottering feet was the first to start swaying. And then she danced, this way and that, pumping her little arms up and down, laughing all the time. It was such a sight to see that I nearly cried. But before anybody could say anything, Berty and Sarah and Rorey were up and dancing with her.

“Look at us!” Rorey cried. “Dancin' angels! Jus' like Mama!”

“Emma too,” Sarah added, looking at me with a confident smile lighting her face. “Emma's dancing too, with both feet on! And her hands holdin' Jesus' hands!”

When we get there, I'm sure we'll see it to be so. Emma and Wila and my mother and Grandma Pearl and everyone else we've ever loved and lost. Dancing. Happy. With their hands in Jesus' hands.

It doesn't take away the pain of this world. But just knowing the outcome can stop the ache that comes in the middle of some lonely night, or can give you words to make a crying child smile again. God is faithful. Our shelter in the time of trouble. Our refuge in the time of storm.

We don't always know what he's given us. When we're deep in the hurt of some awful moment, we don't always know what good things God has prepared for the days ahead. But we do know so much of himself has been given to our hands. To cherish. To rest in. And especially to share.

To everything there is a season. To dance. To laugh. To rejoice again. To pick up a child and go swirling around the room the way George did when he got swept up in the music. Life goes on. And on. For eternity. And just gets better, if we have each other. If we have God.

Albert sent out a marker for Emma's grave, just like he said he would. And right under her name, it said, “In God's Garden Now.” I couldn't think of anything more appropriate. Except, perhaps, what he'd had engraved on the one he'd also gotten for Wilametta: “Waiting to Greet Us in Our Heavenly Home.”

And so it is.

Amen.

 

 

Leisha Kelly
is a native of Illinois and grew up around gardens and hardworking families. She and her husband, K.J., have two children, eighteen peaceful acres, and several pets.