Heads up!  We’re going to delve a little deeper – both emotionally and theologically – than my normal weekly posts usually take us. But the more I sat with this topic, and the more God laid truths on my heart, the more convinced I became that some of you may need to hear what I have to share.

To set the stage before we dig in, I’ve written in the past about what a blessed life I’ve led, particularly the season where Dale and I happily lived on our acreage with virtually no difficult issues in our lives.

I can remember as if it was yesterday, lying in bed at night as I fell asleep, and being overwhelmed by the feelings of happiness, peace and gratitude.  Those emotions were entirely appropriate for that season of my life.  I remain deeply thankful that those memories are still so vivid.  Looking back, though, I can also see that those feelings were closely tied to a season that was never meant to last.

After Dale died, it became increasingly difficult to muster up those same emotions (which, honestly, isn’t a great strategy to begin with). Oh sure, there were nights when I fell asleep grateful to God for his blessings – both past and present.

But more often than not, even eight-plus years later, I noticed that my final emotional state of the day leaned toward discontent, sometimes bordering on sadness.

And that troubled me.

I found myself wondering whether I was somehow dishonoring God by ending my day that way. As a widow who still deeply misses her husband, did I have the “right” to feel sadness? Perhaps. But it also became clear that there was more going on here, something deeper than grief alone, something that didn’t seem to dissipate no matter how much time passed.

Enter Joni Eareckson Tada and her book, “Heaven – Your Real Home.”

For those of you who don’t know her story, it’s important to understand the authority with which Joni speaks about both suffering and the hope of Heaven.

Paralyzed from the shoulders down at age 17 after a diving accident, Joni has spent nearly six decades living as a quadriplegic. Through her suffering, she has become a globally respected Christian author, artist, speaker, and advocate, helping countless people understand God’s presence and purpose in pain.

She also founded Joni and Friends, an international disability ministry that serves families affected by disability around the world. Her life and ministry consistently point beyond present hardship to the hope and promise of our true home in Heaven.

When someone has spent that many years in a wheelchair, enduring chronic pain and limitation, we would do well to sit up straight and pay attention!

As a believer, can you imagine how deep Joni’s longing for Heaven must be?  And yet, she has lived far longer than anyone could have predicted – clearly because God still has work for her to do here on earth.  Even so, her longing for Heaven has not diminished.

In fact, she writes about how that longing has only grown stronger as she has gotten older. And let’s be honest; older means closer to Heaven – and closer to Jesus!  Who wouldn’t long for that?

So, what Joni’s book did for me – especially as I, too, am getting older – was normalize the feelings of unrest and discontentment I’d been experiencing – emotions I hadn’t truly given myself permission to feel. Not because I lacked gratitude, and not because I doubted God’s goodness, but because something deeper was stirring.

Those of you with kids or grandkids may be familiar with Daniel Tiger who reminds children everywhere, “You can feel two emotions at the same time!”  As it turns out, that’s not just good advice for children – it’s solid theology. 

Scripture affirms this tension clearly when the apostle Paul writes that we can be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Corinthians 6:10).

While I’ve long known that Heaven is my true home, and while I’ve longed for it for years, it wasn’t until I finished Joni’s book that all the dots finally connected.

Now, when I close my eyes at night and that familiar melancholy settles in, I no longer chastise myself for it. Instead, I recognize it for what it is: a holy unrest. A reminder that my truest home isn’t here. A stranger in a strange land…

And yet—at the very same time—I can still be content. I can still experience joy. I can continue to follow God’s leading and serve him faithfully in my earthly home until the day he calls me to my heavenly one.

This is where I’ve landed: 

Not unhappy – just not home yet.

“…they admitted that they were foreigners and strangers on earth…

longing for a better country—a heavenly one.”

Hebrews 11:13-16