Loving God, please help them to find Cile.

I pray that God would grant Cile's family knowledge of where she is. If it is His will to allow her body to remain as the body of Moses, I pray that He would grant them comfort and closure in some other way.

Around 9 months ago, close to my neck of the woods (and within a few miles of one of the churches in our camp association), a five-year-old boy with autism tragically passed away. Soon afterward, his father had a heart attack (or something like it), probably related to his emotional turmoil over what happened, but after being resuscitated he posted the following on social media:

My testimony is that I crossed over and saw my son and Jesus Christ on the other side. I wasn't judged I only felt love and compassion. I couldn't stay. I was told "you got to go back". As I handed my son to Jesus I popped back in my body. Everything is going to be OK. Our savior is real and I met him face to face. This is the single most profound experience I've had in my existence.

If you Google this and find his Threads profile, you'll see that he posted two pages he'd written out by hand describing his experience in greater detail. I've heard some other stories--not always related to a medical emergency such as a heart attack, some just dreams and visions--where people were comforted by seeing their loved ones in heaven, and I pray that if such a vision would bring comfort to Cile's, I ask that God would provide it (preferably without a heart attack!) so that they can rest easier knowing that even if the body is concealed, they know where the actual person is and that she's happy.

By the way, the line where he said "Everything is going to be OK" lines up very closely with the words of an acquaintance of mine who had a similar experience: He described a feeling of peace that "felt like everything is OK." Not to downplay what they went through in their last moments earthside, but for the girls who drowned in the flood, going straight from drowning to having that indescribable "everything's perfectly OK" feeling in an instant must've felt absolutely AMAZING once it happened. I imagine that that moment must be one of their fondest memories now, maybe even something they'll still be eager to tell their surviving friends and family about when they get there.

In the words of a contemporary hymn from 2014, "We will cross that great horizon, clouds behind and life secured, and the calm will be the better for the storms that we've endured." May that be true not only for the girls, but also for their loved ones who now weather the storms of grief.

Thank you Phil, that was a beautiful post.

I will never understand how some folks don't believe in God and heaven above. How do you get through life's struggles alone?

All mighty God, please reveal Cile's location, for her parents sake, Amen.

Jack Squat 83 said:

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Thank you Phil, that was a beautiful post.

I will never understand how some folks don't believe in God and heaven above. How do you get through life's struggles alone?

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Thank you for your kind words. I've had a few things I've thought about posting, but I didn't want to come across as trying to "fix" people's pain and grief with a huge wall of text. I ultimately realized that sometimes words of encouragement can be a blessing even if they can't fix the pain.

As for the second thing you said, I'll admit that I've gone through some seasons of doubt myself, and I can confirm that it was really difficult. I am so thankful to God that He remained faithful even in those times when I wondered.

I'd like to share some lines from a song I wrote some time ago when several of my circles of friends were mourning the loss of two young people (including the 9-year-old cousin of a kid whose camp counselor I'd recently been). I'd gotten the idea in my head--which was later agreed with by the mother of a close friend who'd died at the age of 24--that one of the hardest things about missing someone who's in heaven is that we don't know what it's really like for them. If they were at a camp we'd attended as a kid, we would be happy that they get to have the experiences we remember having, but with heaven our minds draw a blank, so it can sometimes feel like they're just...gone. It makes it tough to feel happy for them like we would if we only knew...

I got to thinking about 2 Corinthians 5:1. I pictured us as a bunch of tent campers who have never seen a house before and don't really have a concept of what one is. We camp together through sunny days and nights of driving rain, but then our fellow campers get called away one by one to a neighborhood full of nice homes while the rest of us don't really even know what that means. Here are some lines from the song I wrote on this theme; I haven't really shared them publicly before (this was my first attempt at writing a song with lyrics), but I hope they will be an encouragement to someone here:

Your permanent dwelling's every brick has been laid
But it doesn't seem quite real to us back at the campground today
You're in a real home, out of the storm and the wind
But to those of us you've left behind, it sure felt like an end

(God, can You please make it just a bit more real to us...
'Cause Lord, Oh Lord you know just how far away heaven feels to us...
Who are still here in the campground)

Forever happy, with no pain and no tears
And the rest of us will join you there within a matter of years...

But it's so hard to imagine a place that we've never known
To us this feels like tragedy; to you it feels like home, sweet home
But one day will come when there'll be no more waiting
We'll be reunited in a place of peace and joy and love so welcoming
Oh, what a homecoming!

p.s. I originally intended the word "campground" to refer metaphorically to this earth, the place where we all dwell in "tents" (as in 1 Corinthians 5:1), but it's not lost on me that the word takes on a more literal double meaning here.