Church Pews and Memories

Tonight we sat in our old pew. The pew we claimed 8 years ago when we joined our little church. The pew we've raised Ally on since she was a year old. The pew I cried at during our years of infertility and pregnancy loss. The pew Briggs first knew. As he got older and more rambunctious, we moved to the back of the church so he wasn't a disturbance to others. He was our social child, always wanting to run from person to person, talk with those sitting behind us, or leave the pew altogether and make a mad dash for the front, to his pastor, his friend.

Sitting here, I was flooded with emotions, reminded of sweet, cherished memories. I heard his giggle, smelt his snacks, saw him play with his toys and scribbling on my sermon notes. I remembered him standing up, facing the members behind us and smiling like he always did. There was a time I longed for a child free service, just to be able to give the minister my full attention, to praise without distraction. Tonight, however, I longed for what was. I would have welcomed the busy hands, the quiet "hushes," the crayons falling to the ground and rolling to the next pew. While I reminisced, I also thought of the hymns we sang of Heaven. "Where the children will play, and our hearts will be gay. As we stroll through that city of gold. No more dying up there, no more sorrow to bear." I cried as this verse was sung, imagining Briggs playing in heaven's streets, but my heart found peace in knowing I would soon be reunited with my sweet boy, and this time it would be for an eternity.

“And this is the promise that he hath promised us, even eternal life.” 1 John‬ ‭2‬:25

Oh, how I long for eternity.