No Line on the Horizon

U2 is by far and away my favorite band.  Even if I don't agree with Bono's skewed theological beliefs, Adam's love affairs, Larry's unbelief, or the Edge's... well, I love the Edge - there is nothing wrong with the Edge.  Even though all of these things, I love and appreciate U2 beyond measure.  Their lyrics have inspired me for years; their poetic historical accounts have lit a fire under me especially at times when I was merely a flickering flame; and who doesn't love sweet guitar licks?  I mean, come on!

I'm not sure that I want this blog to turn into a place where I am constantly revealing the process of my grief, so I do promise that more blogs on other topics will come, but something inside of me started burning this weekend as I was listening to my U2 playlist.  Next Monday would have been my mom's 54th birthday.  The irony of it all is that I rarely ever remembered my mom's age while she was alive.  In fact, on several occasions in my childhood and teen years, I remember saying, "Happy Birthday MOM!  How old are you again?"  I never forgot her birthday, but I just couldn't make the number of years stick in my brain.  Now that she is no longer here, I am not quite sure what will happen with this memory lapse, but for now, the # 54 is bright and clear.

What does this have to do with U2 and a fire burning inside of me, you may ask.  Well, the simple matter is this: It turns out that we are incredibly selfish people.  My mom would have been 54 next week; and the shock of grief at times can be overwhelming.  I miss her.  I want to talk to her.  I get angry at the fact that somehow God took her away.  How could he do that?  Didn't He know that I needed her here?  Didn't He know that she was supposed to be a witness to my life here on this earth?  Didn't He get it that she was supposed to be a grandma one day?  Did God mess up?

These are the thoughts that plague me at some of the most inopportune times.  So, it is most certainly comical to me that God would use my love for U2 to express something so deep and profound because when the grief hits, it is hard to focus.  You may ask, what does the song "No Line on the Horizon" have to do with this?

Everything.

Selfishness is looking at God and telling Him that He should have known better; but He speaks to me and says that He does know.  My mom would have been 54, but now she is Eternity.  My mom would have been facing another Michigan winter with a car that always continually gave her problems, but now she is in the heavenlies - where the idea of "weather" is comical.  My mom would have been facing another stack of bills every single day, adding fear and worry to her already loaded plate.  Now she is in a place where peace, pure bliss, and joy reign.  The words fear and worry have no meaning.  My mom would have been waking up to another day of pricking her finger, writing down her #, taking a bunch of pills, and shooting a shot of insulin into her system.  She now resides in a place where medicine does not exist and never has, because there is no more disease, there is no more heartache, there is no more pain, there is no more crying - there is simply her and Him.

You see there is no line on the horizon for my mom.  I miss her with all of my finiteness, but if I cannot wrap my head around the fact that the Infinite has it all in His ever-loving Hands, then well, I am selfish.

For now, it is enough for me to say out loud, "Happy Birthday, Mom; you are in the best place possible.  I cannot wait to see you again."