Kara Tippetts--Skipping on Heaven's Golden Streets

Last Sunday a fellow believer, a sister in Christ, and one who partook of the sufferings of Christ

in the form of cancer,

went to heaven--

Kara Tippetts.

I learned about her homegoing as we also read in the news about the airplane crash in the French Alps.

Not exactly material to jump up and down about.

Or was it?

Kara wouldn't want us to cry too long.

She would want us to get back to life as usual--

only with extra hugs for our children, 

and an extra desire to savor the moments with them.

 I gulped back tears last night, reading Ann Voskamp's comments about Kara, 

and then reading a bit in Kara's own blog--this valiant mother who had sent an open letter urging another young mom

not to cave to doctor-assisted euthanasia as she was promising to do.

The other mom went ahead with her plans. 

And Kara lingered on--choosing to live to the end of her days as she felt Christ would want her to.

She knew that that would mean more pain--

but it would also mean more grace--and more peace. 

 What stood out to me in the testimonies about Kara's final days was the peace. 

Because when we make Christ-honoring choices,

and choose God's way,

it may invite more pain, but

it always brings peace.

 It was hard to focus on what needed to be done before going to bed last night, after reading all that.

I wanted to meditate and cry, but there were things needing to be done.

Sometimes it bothers me to just act like this other mom, younger than me, never died and left a lonely husband and four young children, 

right here in Colorado Springs, over on Westside, 

to just go about my bedtime rituals so I could get up in the morning to start life all over again--

when someone else started eternal life--and left behind a grieving family. 

But after wanting us to go ahead and grieve a bit, pray for her family, and remember eternal things,

Kara would want us to do just that--go gladly on with our own life.

She would be glad that the very next day after reading about her death, home school moms are getting together 

for educational and outdoor activities.

 She would remind us that she has jumped right into a heavenly Father's arms--

so why can't we jump rope with laughter and shouts--

one child after another jumping into the turning rope and jumping the given number of jumps, 

and then jumping back out again

to the cheers of the onlookers?

 She is dancing around the streets of gold, 

so why can't some children dance together

while the moms turn the rope and cheer them on?

 One person after another, taking turns jumping rope.

One person after another, taking turns dying.

 I have never had so many people we know dying as have been lately.

It could be awfully morose--just feeling like we are sorta waiting our turn to die.

But it's up to us. 

Are we waiting our turn to die, or, as Kara would ask,

are we waiting our turn to fully live?

She said she hadn't really fully lived until she realized she was going to die. 

She used to begrudge when little feet came pattering to disturb her morning sleep,

but now she welcomed the little ones to come and snuggle with her.

I could empathize. 

I'm so tired a lot of the time.

But she didn't have many more of those moments to--

enjoy, rather than to endure.

Facing the end of one's life gives a totally different perspective to the things we so often begrudge, 

endure, and take for granted.

I woke up this morning feeling sad--

and I had to acknowledge my feelings, but just identifying what I was feeling helped me overcome it.

I remembered that Kara had written that she allowed herself to be sad, but not to be angry.

Why should we be angry at God, Who knows exactly what He is doing?

So many people have been touched through this mother's story. 

It was all part of God's plan, and the wonderful way He redeems our sorrows

and turns them into something beautiful.

 We don't need to spend our lives licking our wounds, begrudging all the bad things that happen to us,

all those things we think we don't deserve.

We could grow dizzy with all the bad things we hear about.

It could all turn us upside down...

 and inside out, if we let it.

( Most of these pictures were the way the cat honestly was--he is so crazy!)

I love watching our cat. 

There is something about the way he just comes in, makes himself at home, curls up and goes to sleep. 

And that is how Kara would want us to envision her--

and how Naomi French's father would want us to envision him--

and how Dorcas Brown and others about to cross over would want us to envision them--

curled up, having made themselves at home in the lap of God,

and gone to sleep.

Rest. 

Peace.

Joy.

Home--at last.

So why not skip rope all over again?