
Sometimes in the dark of the night I think about what might have been. You know—the kind of night when sleep won’t come and the past fills our minds. I think about my loved ones who have moved on to heaven. I wonder what they are doing and if they remember life here on earth.
I think about the apostles and wonder if they felt left behind when Jesus ascended to heaven. I know Luke 25 tells us that after Jesus blessed them, He left them and was taken up into heaven. Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God. However, I wonder if in the middle of the night when they couldn’t sleep if they ever wondered what Jesus was doing and if He remembered his life here on earth.
But then I remember that Jesus was fully alive when He ascended into heaven.
Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote a poem entitled, “Of Death I Do Not Approve and I am Not Resigned.” This poem resonates with me and I find a small comfort in knowing someone else has had the same feelings as I have. I’ve struggled so many times with the emotional earthquake of losing loved ones and I find no comfort in the finality of death. My soul cries out at the injustice and the loss. No, I do not approve and I am not resigned.
The amazing thing is God Almighty did not approve of death either. When Jesus saw Mary weeping and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled and asked where they had laid Lazarus. Come and see, Lord, they replied. And Jesus wept … John 11:33-35
Jesus wept … With His tears, God tells me that He did not approve of death any more than I did, that He was not resigned, and that He was not willing that any should die. This God, this God who is love, this resurrected living God, this incredible God who created man and woman, was not willing for His loved ones to return to dust.
God had a plan to save His created people, not to harm them but to help them. He did what no one on this earth can do. He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, who not only paid the price for our sins, but defeated death when He gave up His life on the Cross. He returned to life three days later and conquered death for all of mankind and for all of eternity. Jesus did this out of love for the Father—and for you and me.
Jesus wept…Here is the comfort for my soul. God is not off in the clouds watching, He is here now. Here, God gives me hope for a future. Here, God gives me assurance that the dead will rise, that I will see all my loves’ faces again.
Just like everyone, I struggle daily with this imperfect world. My journey has been a long and uncertain one mingled with both good and bad times. And yes, sometimes in the rawness of grief I falter, but the Lord always reminds me He is with me and this earthly place is not my final destination. I am convinced this world is only temporary and that death has been defeated. There will be a time when the imperfect will be made perfect, when life will be fair, when pain and grief will no longer exist, when sadness will be replaced with joy, and Christ Jesus will reign.
Easter is why we don’t give up.
Easter is the day Jesus rose from the grave and defeated death. Because of Easter, “The trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed … Death is swallowed up in victory.” 1 Corinthians 15: 52.54
Easter is the day that gives me hope. Easter is a day of celebration, a day to celebrate life and to remember Almighty God loves us and we will see our loved ones again.
Left behind—temporarily…But I am comforted in the knowledge that God can and will make everything new and right and beautiful and perfect someday. I am comforted in His promise of an eternal future for all who believe in His Son. I am comforted in His promise of a grand reunion with my loved ones.









As I struggled with not being with my family on Easter day, I traveled back in time. I pulled out my old picture albums and visited the 1960s when my daughters were little. Time travel via photographs and memories turned a sad day into a sweet and lovely day. How precious those times were.
My grandfather, Eldon Lowrey, was a foot soldier in France during World War I. He told stories about marching behind the men on horseback till he thought his legs would drop off. He said they had to keep up with the horses. He was especially fond of telling about the time a Frenchman stopped his wagon and invited some of them to hop on and ride a while. He developed a love of champagne while he was in France. His doctor became his dearest friend when he prescribed one glass of wine every evening. About once a month, he would ask us to get him one bottle of champagne for medicinal purposes. He kept it in the garage because my grandmother didn’t approve of any alcoholic beverages and would not have it in the house. We tried to convince him that it went flat after opened and that some of the other wines would hold better, however, nothing would do but champagne, no matter how flat! He was a special man, my grandfather. And I remember…
Thoughts of my second husband, Ray Groezinger, and the stories he used to tell me are flooding my mind. He was not quite eighteen when World War II started in the 1930s. America was not yet in it. He tried to go to Canada with some of his buddies to enlist in the Canadian Armed Forces, but his mother would not sign the papers for him. As soon as he turned 18, he and a couple of his friends signed up, America was now in the war. They were sent to Pensacola, Florida for flight training. It was very different in those early years, they signed up with the stipulation they could resign at will. Try that one today! They were trained to fly open cockpit planes. These three friends formed a life-long love of flying. He and his three buddies were flight instructors at Luke Field in Arizona during the war and were frozen there—flight instructors were vital.
My dad, Homer E. Hayes worked for Dallas Power & Light Company during World War II. He tried to enlist several times, but was not permitted to leave DP&L. The electric company was allowed to freeze a necessary crew of men to keep the electricity going in Dallas, Texas. He tried many times to be released, but never was. It always bothered him. He felt he was not doing his duty to his country.
My first husband, Bill D. Kerss, served in the Korean War. He was a G-2 agent stationed at the News Center in Kansas City. During that time nothing could be released to the newspapers, radio, or television until it had official clearance from the military. Security was tightly controlled. His service here in the states didn’t feel any different from having a regular job—except for wearing the Army uniform and the time periods he was gone! We enjoyed our time in Missouri, but were glad to get back to Texas. My childhood sweetheart, friend, lover, and father of my daughters died in 1977. And I remember…
My cousin, Gary Morris, is a Marine and veteran of Vietnam. He carries many scars, both visible and invisible. He went to Vietnam a happy, laughing young man and came home with a sadness and pain that has never left him, scars of the mind. The two of us are the oldest in our families, the last holdouts of our generation. And that’s a sobering thought!. And we remember all the members of our family who fought for freedom…

