This evening Charley excitedly – & almost frantically – called to me through the kitchen window. I had just stepped inside for a moment to water some freshly potted sunflower seeds, but it sounded urgent. Through the glass, she pointed to the old rotary phone affixed to our fence and yelled, “Mommy! Hurry! Come quick! Frantzky is calling!”

Immediately my heart began to race.

Obviously I knew he wasn’t on the phone… even if it still worked. But I couldn’t get outside fast enough.

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of his death.

And even though the date and memories weigh heavily on my mind and my heart, I have carried the burdens silently. Hearing her speak his name out of nowhere took my breath away. And today of all days?

She happily dialed him back, turning the dial to “just the right numbers,” said a cheery hello, then passed the phone to me. With my heart still thumping, I suddenly felt as if I had the opportunity to speak to him one more time, crazy as it sounds. What would I say? With Charley smiling on, I told him how much I missed him, but knew he was having the best time in heaven. I told him how special he was and always will be to me… how he changed my life. I told him how much I love him and will see him again one day. My first baby.

At this, Charley piped up, and said, “It’s been a whole year, he’s big now.”

Speechless, I handed the phone back to her, and she happily continued chatting away, telling him how silly he is and giggling as if talking to her best friend in the whole world.

My heart has been heavy thinking on his passing… about how much it ripped my heart out to leave him behind in Haiti… about what might have been… about how much I wish I could have seen him alive one more time for a glorious reunion… but the joy and glimmer in Charley’s eye tonight tells me that with eyes that see the eternal, I might be excitedly dancing alongside her.

I am 100% certain she hears from God, and today’s message was no exception. It was a message of comfort, of promise, of hope.

As tomorrow arrives and I remember once more, I feel more armed to face the day with eternal eyes.

Grieving, yes, for death is not God’s design. But hopeful – –  because eternal, beautiful, perfected life with Him is. And I know that is exactly where Frantzky was calling from.